


One More Chance

by lettersinpetals



Series: One More Chance [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (at the end) - Freeform, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou - Freeform, Break Up, Brief Kita Shinsuke/Miya Atsumu, Drama, Fluff, Future Fic, Getting Back Together, M/M, One More Chance AU, Pining, Pro Volleyball Player Miya Atsumu, Pro Volleyball Player Sakusa Kiyoomi, it's true love your honor, kita does not deserve this, osamu is the best brother, sakuatsu are in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:22:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26078668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettersinpetals/pseuds/lettersinpetals
Summary: "Tsumu...I don’t know if what I’m doing is right. But I need out of here.”“Out of — out of the team? Out of Osaka?” Atsumu looked scared now.“Out of this, here...away from you. Tsumu, I don’t think I want this anymore.”--After almost three years together, Miya Atsumu and Sakusa Kiyoomi's relationship falls apart. But that doesn't necessarily mean it's the end.
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke & Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu, Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Sakusa Kiyoomi & Ushijima Wakatoshi
Series: One More Chance [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1899325
Comments: 133
Kudos: 842
Collections: HQ Filo Week Fic Collection, Haikyuu14





	1. The End

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kagehinabokeh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kagehinabokeh/gifts).



> This is based on the iconic Filipino movie “One More Chance,” because someone just had to do it. The plot is very loosely patterned on the movie’s plot — by this I mean I took a handful of elements, and plot points, and quotes from the movie and ran with it. I obviously had to adjust (and invent) events and circumstances and motives and timelines to make it fit SakuAtsu, and I added plenty of original scenes, so now it’s this monster that’s unrecognizable. But several quotes are lifted from it, or directly translated from Tagalog to English.
> 
> This might be a little painful. Keep in mind that endgame is SakuAtsu and it does end happily. I make up for everything with lots of fluff.
> 
> There’s hardly any actual volleyball here, though they’re volleyball players. Heh. Oh, and in the film there was some cheating, but I couldn’t handle that, so there’s no such thing here.

**[January 2019]**

They were sitting on the floor of the balcony, with only a blanket protecting them from the stinging cold concrete. The night was silent as they waited for midnight to strike.

Sakusa Kiyoomi watched as his boyfriend poured hot chocolate into a mug from a thermos, a futile effort to keep them warm. It was the peak of winter, and he had to wonder what was going through Miya Atsumu’s mind when he decided this was a good way to spend New Year’s Eve.

“Is it midnight yet?” Kiyoomi asked, not for the first time that night.

“Almost,” Atsumu said, not for the first time either.

Kiyoomi rolled his eyes but smiled. Truthfully, he appreciated Atsumu being here with him. He could have spent this special occasion with his twin Osamu and their parents, but he said he wanted to spend their first New Year as a couple together.

And this is what he thought of. A picnic in Kiyoomi’s balcony, drinking hot chocolate and eating mochi.

After some shuffling, Atsumu sat behind him, thighs splayed on either side of Kiyoomi, strong arms hugging him.

“You have to kiss me at midnight, Omi-Omi,” Atsumu said directly in his ear, his voice playful. “So that we’ll stay together the rest of the year.”

“Does that mean we have to kiss at midnight of every New Year?” he asked. He relaxed against Atsumu, letting him take his weight.

“Hmm.” Atsumu rested his chin on Kiyoomi’s shoulder. “That does sound rather unfeasible, if we’re talking _every_ year.”

“Thinking ahead, are we? We’re only been together for five months. You think we’ll still be together five _years_ from now?”

“Five, ten, fifteen...forever,” Atsumu said, his voice serious now. “I know it hasn’t been that long, but I love you, Kiyoomi. I want to build a life with you. I’m serious about this.”

Heart racing, Kiyoomi craned his head to the side, trying to look at the sappy idiot he called his boyfriend. Atsumu leaned down to meet his gaze.

Kiyoomi said, “Okay.”

Atsumu smiled at him slowly, face gradually brightening. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

They kissed before the clock struck 12, but they were still intertwined by the time the New Year arrived, and long after.

**[January 2021]**

Kiyoomi thought of that first New Year together as he hugged himself on Osamu’s balcony. He had escaped the explosive noise inside once it got a bit much for him.

He and Atsumu didn’t kiss at midnight, not this time.

He didn’t know where his boyfriend even was. When he saw him last, he seemed to have been having a good time taking shot after shot with his high school friends. He half expected Atsumu to seek him out when they started the countdown, but he supposed he wasn’t a priority at the moment.

He was a little relieved. He’d been finding himself needing space from Atsumu more and more these days.

And then the door slid open, and a familiar voice yelled, “Omi!”

Kiyoomi turned in time to see Atsumu stumble out onto the balcony. Laughter and conversations wafted out through the sliding door.

“Hey,” Atsumu breathed out, eyes bright as he looked at him. “Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year,” he murmured back. Then he avoided Atsumu’s mouth when he went in for a kiss. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of beer on his breath. “You know I don’t like it when you drink beer.”

Atsumu let himself be pushed away by Kiyoomi’s hand on his chest, pouting. “But it’s New Year, Omi, we said we have to kiss every midnight!”

“It’s half past midnight,” Kiyoomi said sharply.

“Oh.”

“And I’m ready to leave, actually. Are you about done?”

Atsumu frowned at him. “It’s early, still. The party’s far from over.”

“I’m really tired, Atsumu.”

Atsumu ran a hand over his face. “Babe. I barely see these people, okay? What’s there to look forward to in our hotel room anyway? We won’t be going back to Osaka until the trains are operating again, so what’s the rush?”

Through gritted teeth, Kiyoomi said, “Sleep, Atsumu. Sleep is what I look forward to. And a bath, and silence, and distance from all these people.”

“They’re our _friends_.”

“They’re _your_ friends.”

“Can’t you just — let people in every once a while, and maybe have some fucking _fun_?”

“This isn't my idea of fun!” Kiyoomi finally yelled. “And you know that! And you keep dragging me to these things, knowing I’d be uncomfortable, and then fuck off and leave me alone!”

“Well, I’m sorry I dared try to have fun, and I’m sorry I bothered dragging you along, hoping you’d get a life or something.”

Kiyoomi shut his eyes briefly, breathing in deep. The lack of noise coming from inside was suddenly very deafening, and he burned in mortification.

He stomped his way inside the apartment and made a beeline to the door.

He was intercepted by Osamu, who was holding his hands up. “Hey, uh, Omi-kun, you don’t have to leave yet, we were just…”

“Out of the way, Samu,” he grit out. He could feel all eyes on him. He didn’t know what they found so interesting. This was hardly the first fight they witnessed.

“Just do what he says, Samu.” Atsumu was making his way towards him, looking irritated. “Shit, whatever. We’re leaving.”

Atsumu brushed past him to where his coat hung by the door. He stuffed his arms in the sleeves with jerky motions, and gave a sarcastic look at Kiyoomi when he was done. “Happy now? Let’s just fucking go.” Then he opened the door and walked out.

If Kiyoomi was a violent person, he would chase him and strangle him. But it simply wasn’t worth the effort.

Instead, he took another deep breath and made his way to the rack to get his own coat.

He glanced back. “Thanks for having us, Samu.”

Then, he too, left.

Later, he soaked in the bath in their hotel room and stared at the wall. Thinking. He’d been doing that a lot lately.

Then Atsumu entered the bathroom, and lowered himself to his knees beside him. “Sorry,” he murmured. He gently touched Kiyoomi’s hands, which were resting on his propped up knees. “Omi. Sorry.” 

Kiyoomi was a little angry to realize his eyes were starting to get wet. There was a heavy weight on his chest.

Atsumu picked up one of his hands and pulled it close to his face, kissing the palm. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Tsumu...maybe we’re not...maybe I’m not…” _happy_ , he didn’t say. He thought that at this point, Atsumu should be able to tell.

But Atsumu just shook his head, dismissing what he was trying to say. Again. He kissed his hand. Again. “I love you.”

Kiyoomi let out a defeated sigh. “I love you, too. And I’m sorry, too.”

Atsumu gazed at him beseechingly. “I know I missed midnight but...1 a.m. kisses are okay too, right?”

He smiled a little, helpless. “I guess they’re okay, too.”

Grinning boyishly, Atsumu leaned in and kissed him gently.

Despite the vague taste of beer, Kiyoomi kissed him back.

He’d just deal with it later.

**[March 2021]**

The thing is, Kiyoomi had never needed anyone. He prided himself in his independence, having grown up mostly in isolation. He never really formed close bonds with anyone. Until Miya Atsumu. Until the Black Jackals.

Kiyoomi was self-sufficient. He built all his habits, his skills, and his whole life with his own hands. His own effort. His own achievements.

And he wanted to share his life with Atsumu, he did. But something in the way Atsumu pushed and factored himself in all of Kiyoomi’s decisions just grated on him.

And then Atsumu had the nerve to keep shit like this from him?

“What did Bokuto mean, that you got offered to play for France?” he demanded, banging open the door to their apartment.

Atsumu followed him in and shut the door behind him, looking confused about Kiyoomi’s anger. “Exactly what he said. They mailed me, said they wanted to recruit me. They knew my contract with the Jackals would be expiring next month.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“I didn’t think it was a big deal! I mean it was flattering, sure, but you know I never really had plans on playing foreign leagues. I’m good here, with _you_.”

“But why didn’t you tell me? I had to hear it from Bokuto, who _isn’t even in the country anymore_ by the way. Do you know how fucking awkward that video call was, when he realized I had no idea what he was talking about?”

“I just,” Atsumu sighed in frustration, dragging a hand through his hard. “I didn’t want it to turn into another argument.”

Kiyoomi glared at him, furious. In a clipped tone, he said, “I thought we were partners here. We discuss things, we make decisions together.”

“We _are_. We _do!_ ” Atsumu sounded aggrieved now.

“Then why do I feel like you’re the one who’s calling all the shots here!” Kiyoomi finally snapped. “You keep doing this crap!”

“What — _god_ , what is it now? What crime did I commit _now_?”

As if talking to a child, Kiyoomi slowly said, “Last month, you agreed for me to do that cologne ad on _my_ behalf, without consulting me. Last _week_ , I found out you called the company that’s been sending me packaged meals and told them to lessen the brown rice and add more greens.”

“I was just trying to look out for you —”

“By overriding my decisions? I’m your _boyfriend_ , Atsumu, not your goddamn son. And I _don’t_ appreciate being patronized. I just turned 25, for fuck’s sake. That’s an adult to anyone’s eyes, except yours, apparently.”

Atsumu approached him slowly, hands thrown up in surrender. “Okay, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for doing all those things without telling you, and I’m sorry I didn’t mention the thing about France. I just — we keep fighting. It was easier to just…”

“Not talk to me?” Kiyoomi’s heart hurt. “I’m tired of this, too, Atsumu. I’m so _tired_.”

Atsumu carefully cradled his face. “Everyone gets tired, Omi. But we have a goal, remember? We gotta keep our eyes on the goal.”

Kiyoomi allowed the kiss, letting the fight exit his body on an exhale.

But for the first time, whatever future Atsumu had in store for both of them wasn’t clear to Kiyoomi.

**[April 2021]**

It was raining.

The weather had been generally nice lately, so Kiyoomi wasn’t prepared for the thunderstorm. He huddled in his too-thin sweater outside a shop, weighing the pros and cons of making a run for it to the station.

But Kiyoomi really hated the cold and the wet and any possibility of getting sick.

He decided to send an SOS to Inunaki, the closest friend Kiyoomi had in the team, seeing as Hinata and Bokuto are both playing for other countries now, and Meian, Barnes, and Adriah had already retired.

Miserable, he hunkered down and waited under the awning.

After about 20 minutes or so a familiar figure carrying an umbrella approached Kiyoomi and he tamped down on the urge to scream.

“Why are you here?” he asked Atsumu when he reached him.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, why are you the one who came here?”

“Because I’m your boyfriend,” Atsumu replied, like that should be obvious.

Atsumu threw a coat over Kiyoomi, and tried to help him put it on.

“I got it,” Kiyoomi snapped. When he was bundled up, he sighed, “Let’s go.”

They stepped out into the rain and started hurrying to the train station. For some reason, the walk seemed longer than usual.

“Why didn’t you want me to pick you up?” Atsumu finally asked.

“Because I didn’t ask you to.”

“Isn’t that what a good boyfriend would do? Why did you text Inunaki, why didn’t you come to me?”

“Because I need _space_ from you, Tsumu.”

Atsumu stopped walking. He laughed sardonically then took a large step away from Kiyoomi. “There! Space!”

But Atsumu was holding the umbrella, and when he stepped away, he took it with him.

The rain started pelting Kiyoomi and it woke something in him. He was suddenly unbelievably furious.

“What is wrong with you?” he bit out.

“What’s wrong with _you_? You’ve been so snappish this past month. No make that _months_ , plural. Everything I do is just a mistake to you!” Atsumu looked furious too.

“And everything I do is just not enough for you. I feel like I have to keep running just to keep pace with you, and I keep letting you take and take, and you _still_ push for more. I keep telling you I’m tired, Atsumu. I’ve given you everything. There is nothing left of me anymore!”

“What are you saying?” Atsumu asked in a low, hesitant voice, as if he picked up on the fact that this was no normal fight.

“I’m saying…” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’m saying I didn’t renew my contract with the Black Jackals.”

Atsumu could only gape at him. For once, he had rendered him speechless.

“Tsumu...I don’t know if what I’m doing is right. But I need out of here.”

“Out of — out of the team? Out of Osaka?” Atsumu looked scared now.

“Out of this, here...away from you. Tsumu, I don’t think I want this anymore.”

“Kiyoomi, please, I need you to explain things to me, because I don’t understand. If I don’t understand, then I can’t fix it!”

“You’re doing it again! You keep trying to fix my problems that I never wanted you to fix! You’re _suffocating_ me, Atsumu. And, and I feel like I’m trapped here, like _you’re_ trapped here, and it’s this relationship’s fault.”

In a dead voice, Atsumu asked, “Do you really believe that?”

Kiyoomi slumped. “I don’t know. But I know there’s something wrong. Can't you see that, Tsumu? We’ve been headed here for months and months now. I’m biting the bullet. I’m ending this.”

Atsumu stepped closer, looking horrified. “Omi. No.”

The word infuriated Kiyoomi. “I’m _done_ , Atsumu.” Then the anger left in a rush, and all he felt was cold. “I’m sorry.”

Then he turned and ran.

**[June 2021]**

In his mind, Kiyoomi always thought of Tokyo as home. It was the city he grew up in, and it was the city that welcomed him back with open arms after his harrowing breakup with Miya Atsumu.

As he wandered around the busy streets lifelessly, he wondered when that changed, when his heart decided a tiny apartment in Osaka was his place in the world now. Packing up all the things he accumulated in three years was like sticking a knife in his own heart with every box that he sealed. And he almost broke down and wept every time Atsumu begged him to _just think about this, you can’t just throw everything away, Omi, please._

But he did it. He left. And now he was back in a place that felt nothing like home.

He missed Atsumu so much he was sick with it. But being with him made him sick, too. What was he to do with himself?

He was walking distractedly with no goal in mind, when he crashed into none other than Ushijima Wakatoshi.

The spiker’s heavy hand steadied Kiyoomi. “Kiyoomi,” he said in surprise.

Kiyoomi blinked at him. “Wakatoshi. I didn’t know you were back in Japan.” He’d been too deep in his misery to even update himself in the happenings in the volleyball world. The only good thing about the breakup was that it happened after the V. League season.

Wakatoshi dropped his hand and nodded. “I missed home, so I’m back in Tokyo. Back with the Adlers, actually.”

This surprised Kiyoomi. “Oh.”

“And you? I’m surprised to run into you here.”

He didn’t know what possessed him to extend the invitation. He hadn’t spoken to a single soul for what felt like ages, even though it’s only been a little over a month since he moved back to Tokyo. He’d been avoiding everyone all that time.

“It’s...a long story. You up for coffee?”

Wakatoshi was one of those people he had always considered a friend. Not a close friend, by any means, but he’d known him since middle school, and he was always fun to play against. His familiar presence was like a balm to his tattered soul.

They settled on a table outside a tea shop.

“I left Atsumu and I left the Black Jackals.”

He didn’t think he’d ever manage to catch the stoic Ushijima Wakatoshi by surprise, but today he did without even trying.

“Tell me what happened,” Wakatoshi requested.

Kiyoomi did. He told him about the endless fights, the feeling of being suffocated, the feeling of holding Atsumu back, how Atsumu stayed with him instead of going to France, how Atsumu was toxic, how he himself became toxic, too.

“...and I didn’t realize how much of myself I invested in my life there until now that it’s all gone. I literally have no plans. This is not like me, Wakatoshi. I feel like I lost me.”

Wakatoshi nodded his head. “I understand. You were right, there was something wrong, but Atsumu-kun wasn’t acknowledging it.”

“He just kept brushing me off, and kept barreling forwards into a future only he could see. It just stopped feeling right. I didn’t see how I could possibly fix it.”

“Pardon me for what I’m about to say, but I believe you couldn’t fix it because you’re the one who needs to be fixed,” Wakatoshi said bluntly. “But you couldn’t be fixed if you and Atsumu were always together.”

Kiyoomi blinked at him.

“How do you feel now?” Wakatoshi continued, without missing a beat.

“Honestly? Miserable. Sick. Heartbroken. I miss him and it hurts. But...I also feel relieved. And shitty for feeling that way.”

Wakatoshi shrugged. “No one ever said feelings had to make sense. I will be the first to admit, they don’t always make sense to me.”

Kiyoomi snorted.

“I don’t really know how to help, but...the Adlers are holding tryouts. Something for you to consider.”

The offer made him feel conflicted. He felt like he was betraying Atsumu, betraying his team for even considering it but...he left that life behind. He can’t keep being miserable over what he gave up, no matter how much he yearned to have it all back.

He’d made a choice, and he had to stick to it. The future he thought he’d have was broken in pieces on the floor, so he had to build a new one. It was time to fix himself.

Kiyoomi nodded slowly. “You know what. I’ll be there.”

**[July 2021]**

“Get up, you dumb fuck.”

Atsumu groaned in protest as his sleep was disturbed by his twin’s foot digging into his side. “Go ‘way,” he croaked out.

“You are going to have to get it together tonight, Tsumu. I swear to fucking god if you embarrass yourself during the dinner later…”

Atsumu pried his eyes open. Right. The dinner.

Shifting, he winced at the aches in his body, which he no doubt got from passing out on the floor. He felt nauseous and his head throbbed. He was too damn old for hangovers.

With great effort, he heaved himself up in a sitting position, head swimming. “What time is it,” he forced out.

“It’s 4 p.m., you idiot. I let you waste the day away, but you are not skipping this dinner.”

Feeling sick in his misery and pain, Atsumu shot back, “You don’t get it. You never had to live with losing the love of _your_ life.”

Osamu was happily in a relationship with his long-term boyfriend, Suna Rintarou. They managed to make it work despite the long distance relationship and the differences in their world — Suna was a professional volleyball player based in Tokyo, and Osamu was running his shop, Onigiri Miya, in Hyogo.

Why did Atsumu have to be the twin who always had to fuck everything up?

“You’re right, I don’t get it. I didn’t understand it when you and Sakusa got together within a month after meeting again in the Black Jackals. I didn’t understand it when you insisted on sticking together despite those horrible fights, which we witnessed for far too many times, by the way! I _accepted_ it because I saw how you two loved each other. But I refuse to _accept_ you ruining yourself and your life over a failed relationship.”

Osamu crouched down and gripped his arm. Atsumu reluctantly met his twin’s gaze.

“Tsumu. I get that it hurts. But wake the fuck up. It’s been almost three months of this. Do you know your coach called me the other day, asking if you could still hold up in this profession? If there were any formal matches, you’d be on the bench. Do you even care?”

He was having a hard time caring about anything other than his broken heart right now.

Atsumu shrugged off Osamu’s hand and dragged himself up. “I’m gonna take a bath.”

The bath didn’t help any. Since Kiyoomi walked out of his life, _their_ life, every ugly emotion the human body was capable of feeling had been festering in Atsumu. Anger. Guilt. Pain. Sadness.

Regret.

In the first week after the breakup, Inunaki and the rest of the team had to physically hold him back from taking a train to Tokyo to follow Kiyoomi. After the first month, they finally called Osamu for help, telling him what happened. It triggered a huge fight because Osamu was upset that Atsumu didn’t tell him himself.

And late last month, it was announced that Kiyoomi was the newest member of the Schweiden Adlers.

Fury. Betrayal. And the sickening realization that Kiyoomi meant it. He was done.

Misery.

Atsumu stepped out of the shower and stared at himself in the mirror. He was pale, he had dark circles under his eyes, and he’d lost weight. Dark roots contrasted with his bleached, limp hair. It was a stranger that stared back at him.

And he hated that he was remembering how he would sometimes hug Kiyoomi from behind while he was doing his 7-step skincare routine in the bathroom.

He glared at his reflection. Who the fuck had a 7-step skincare routine anyway?

He exited the bathroom and listlessly scoured through Osamu’s closet for something to wear. He’d been crashing in his brother’s apartment since the breakup, painstakingly making the commute to Osaka thrice a week for off-season practice. He was unable to stand the emptiness in his place, the Kiyoomi-shaped hole too hard to bear.

He truly had no energy for this dinner. It was a reunion of sorts, to be held in Osaka.

Hinata Shouyou has come home.

Not permanently. Just for a visit. He missed Shouyou, but to have to look at him in the eye and tell him he and Kiyoomi broke up...Atsumu wasn’t sure if he could handle it.

Although he was sure that word had reached him at this point. Public speculation had already been at an all-time high since Kiyoomi transferred to the Adlers, especially because Atsumu and the MSBY Black Jackals had been silent about it.

But while the public didn’t exactly know what was going on, their friends and colleagues did. And they could deny it all they wanted, but they were gossips through and through.

Only one thing kept him from skipping the dinner.

Kiyoomi might be there.

Atsumu just wanted to see him. Just this once. He wasn’t going to try anything, he wasn’t going to start anything. He just wanted to see him.

Just one more time.

\--

The moment he and Osamu entered the restaurant, all eyes were on Atsumu.

Great.

Hinata had reserved the entire place (apparently an old friend owned it), so he could fit in as many guests as he could.

And those guests were all looking at Atsumu in variations of surprise, relief, curiosity, and sympathy.

This was a bad idea.

“Yo,” he greeted finally, letting his legs take him closer to familiar faces. Inunaki was there, of course, and even Meian, Barnes, and Adriah. They all stood up to greet him and pat him on the back.

He let his eyes rove around the place. There were less people than he expected. Aside from the Jackals’, the only people there were Akaashi Keiji and Hinata’s old high school team. There was Tsukishima Kei, the pinch server with the mean floater, and a blonde girl.

And then Hinata — ever bright and sunny Hinata — was suddenly in front of him, grinning at him happily. “Tsumu-san!”

Atsumu was enveloped in a tight hug and he automatically hugged back. After a moment he relaxed, a lump building in his throat. Atsumu hugged him harder. “Hey, Shouyou-kun. Fuck, I missed you.”

“I missed you too!” Hinata drew back and reached up to grip Atsumu’s biceps. His face turned serious.

 _He knows,_ he thought.

“Atsumu-kun,” Hinata said solemnly. “How are you?”

He swallowed the burst of emotion. Now was not the time for a break down. “Fine,” he lied blatantly.

Hinata studied his face sadly, then decided to drop it. He turned to greet Osamu and Atsumu slumped into a seat beside Inunaki.

There was already plenty of food served on the table. Some of them had already started to eat.

“Dig in,” Meian advised. “It’s good to see you, Atsumu-kun.”

“You too, Cap.” Meian had already retired but Atsumu will probably always see him as his captain.

Osamu sat on the seat beside him, and they started to load food on their plates. Akaashi video called Bokuto on his iPad, so now the familiar boisterous voice of his old friend rang across the table, making everyone smile.

But before Atsumu could even take a bite, the restaurant door opened, and in came Kiyoomi....trailed by Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Atsumu’s heart stuttered then fell.

What the fuck was that man doing here? He could hardly be called Hinata’s friend.

He ignored the sudden silence and the eyes flicking between him, Kiyoomi, and Ushijima. Instead, he stared at Kiyoomi’s face as if he’d never get a chance to see it again.

Kiyoomi looked...good.

He must have discarded his mask before entering, because his devastatingly handsome face was in full view. He looked well-rested, healthy. Not exactly happy, no, but at peace.

Clearly, he was doing way better than Atsumu. Compared to Kiyoomi, Atsumu looked like a slob, the pain he was suffering clear for everyone to see.

He didn’t get a chance to settle on an emotion before Kiyoomi was looking at him.

“Atsumu,” he greeted, dipping his head in a nod. Then he was caught in a conversation with Hinata, who was chattering at him nervously, no doubt trying to alleviate the tension that was suddenly thick in the room.

Osamu leaned into him. “Don’t fucking start anything,” he said lowly.

“Please, for the love of god,” Inunaki hissed. “We’re staying civil. Civil, Atsumu.”

He scoffed at them. “I wasn’t _going_ to. Jesus. Fuck.” He felt unsettled. It was clearer than ever that the wound hadn’t even begun to heal.

Kiyoomi and Ushijima sat across from Atsumu, off to the side. Far enough away from him, but not too far that he could be accused of avoiding him.

For a while, it seemed like the dinner could actually pass without any incidents. But the feelings that have been festering in Atsumu for the past months were starting to bubble over.

He noticed Kiyoomi had more greens on his plate than rice. Wanting to be considerate, he tried to hand over the serving of rice to him. “Here, Omi, have some brown rice.”

Kiyoomi’s eyes flickered to him. He held a hand up. “I’m good, thanks.”

“But you like brown rice,” he said a little desperately.

Inunaki forced Atsumu’s hand down. Osamu sighed beside him.

Atsumu would have let it go, if he didn’t catch the look exchanged between Kiyoomi and Ushijima. It ticked him off — he was suddenly _angry_.

“Hey,” he said, addressing Ushijima. He couldn’t take it anymore. “What’s your deal, huh?”

Ushijima looked at him stoically. “I ask that you not pick a fight, Miya-san.”

His politeness infuriated Atsumu. He stood up, his chair making a grating noise. Osamu and Inunaki immediately jumped up and grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Why not?” He challenged Ushijima. He was truly furious now, practically vibrating in place. “Think I can’t take you?”

But Atsumu was dragged forcefully back, towards the door.

Osamu said, “We’re going home. Sorry, Hinata-kun.”

Atsumu resisted, thrashing against his grip. “I’m just trying to ask a fucking question!”

And then Kiyoomi was standing in front of him, looking angry.

“What’s wrong with you?” Kiyoomi demanded. “You really had to ruin this for Hinata?”

“What’s wrong with _me_? What’s wrong with _you_? Don’t you know the three-month rule, Omi? You were supposed to wait three months before jumping into a new relationship. I still have two weeks, damn it! Are you that eager to replace me?”

Kiyoomi looked down for a few moments. When he looked back up at Atsumu, his eyes were hard. “Go home, Tsumu.”

“Fuck you, Omi! Are you really that cold?” Atsumu didn’t think his heart could be broken any worse than it was already, but he was proven wrong. Trust Kiyoomi to crush everything of him into dust.

Helpless, Atsumu gazed at the one person he loved most in all the world, eyes burning. “Three years, Omi. How could you walk away? I gave you everything, how could that not have been enough?” Overcome, he started to cry. “I _love you._ And it’s _killing me_.”

Defeated, he let Osamu wrap an arm around his shoulders and lead him away. He kept his head bowed, sobbing quietly.

“Listen, Tsumu…” Osamu began when they were walking outside. He sounded like he was crying, too, as if he felt his pain. “Sometimes the people we love leave us behind, but that just means that something even better is coming. And I know you can’t see it yet, but one day, I promise, you _will_ be fine again. In the meantime, I’m _here_ for you, okay? So stop pushing me away.”

On the train ride back to Hyogo, Atsumu cried into Osamu’s chest, letting his twin finally hold him for the first time in three months. The train rocked them as it carried them home.

\--

He stood in front of Coach Samson Foster nervously. Instead of his usual practice garb, he was wearing jeans and a hoodie.

Atsumu bowed low. “I apologize for my behavior these past three months. I’ve been dealing with a lot, but the team didn’t deserve to be dragged down by my personal issues.”

There was a beat of silence, before Foster said, “Come now, Atsumu-kun. I understand. I appreciate the apology.”

Atsumu straightened and found the strength to meet Foster’s gaze. His coach beckoned him closer, and gestured for him to sit on the chair in front of his desk. But once Atsumu was seated, Foster rounded his desk and perched on top of it.

“How have you been doing?” Foster asked.

The gentleness in the normally intimidating man made Atsumu choke up. “Not well. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize —”

“No, I have to, coach, because I don’t think I — I think I need a break. I’m sorry.” He bowed his head.

Foster sighed. “I figured it would come to this, although I admit I was hoping it wouldn’t. Atsumu.” He picked his head up and looked at his coach. “I’m granting you a sabbatical. Trust me when I say you need it.”

Atsumu opened his mouth but Foster held up a hand.

“As long as you need — months, be it years. I know you’re only three months in your new contract with us but — honestly, Atsumu, you’re no use to us like this. Listen, you’ve been with us since you were fresh out of high school, and I’m proud to see how you’ve grown. You gave us a good seven years, son. We don’t mind giving you some time to yourself. You’re off the hook, go home, take a break. I just ask that when you’re ready to return, you’ll think of us and come back here.”

For the millionth time in a span of a few days, tears sprung to Atsumu’s eyes again. “Coach,” he choked out. “Thank you. And I’m sorry. It just...it hurts.” He started sobbing. “I don’t know how to do this without him.”

Foster gripped his shoulder hard. “You’ll figure it out. You were doing well long before he entered the picture. You’ll find yourself again.”

Later, when he’d calmed himself down and was about to exit Foster’s office, he turned back.

“Coach. You took me in when I was a nobody, and helped me become the player I am today. When I’m ready to play the sport again, there’s nowhere else I’d go except here.”

Foster smiled at him proudly and nodded. Chest feeling lighter, Atsumu closed the door behind him and started walking, alone and unsure of his future for the first time in his life.


	2. The Middle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You thought I'd give you a break? Think again. Suffer, mortals!

**[August 2021]**

Atsumu was disgruntled to realize that healing wasn’t as easy as going straight from point A to point B. In fact, he couldn’t even catch sight of point B. He was having a hard time finding a point to everything, period.

He stumbled his way out of an izakaya. He wondered if he should take a cab to his and Osamu’s apartment, but decided he was sober enough to take the train.

But when he attempted to take another step, his legs gave way and he fell flat on his ass. He groaned, dizzy, trying to get himself upright.

And then there was a horrified “Atsumu?” and footsteps rushing towards him.

That voice sounded familiar. He blinked blearily and the face of Kita Shinsuke came into focus.

Hands were gripping his arms, trying to lift him up. He obediently attempted to get to his feet, his swaying steadied by Kita’s hold.

“Atsumu, come on, let’s get you home. Where are you staying?” Kita’s voice was as calm and steady as he remembered it. He was comforted by it. At some point in his high school life, he had even dreamed about it.

Without thinking, he leaned down and planted his lips on Kita’s.

And then he was being shoved away and his cheek stung with the force of a slap.

“Snap out of it, Atsumu,” Kita ordered, offended.

Atsumu did no such thing. Instead, he leaned away and vomited on the floor.

And he remembered nothing else.

\--

“I am...so sorry,” Atsumu said the following day.

He had his head bowed in shame, his respect for his old captain as strong as ever.

When he woke up that morning, feeling as horrible as always, he had groaned and stumbled his way to the bathroom to empty the contents of his stomach into the toilet. Then he stood in the shower trying to piece the previous night together, only really remembering falling on his ass, being saved by Kita, and fucking things up by kissing him.

But when he dragged himself out to the kitchen, Kita was there, drinking tea with Osamu. They looked at him in disapproval.

He wanted to curl up in shame. Good thing Kita had always been more patient than they deserved.

“It’s fine, Atsumu. I understand you’ve been having a rough time.”

That was an understatement.

“So, how come you’re here anyway? Don’t you have a farm to manage?” Atsumu asked, curiosity taking over.

Kita nodded. “I’ve hired some locals to do the labor, take care of the land. I’ll return every once in a while, but I’ll only really be needed there when it’s planting and harvesting season. For now, I’m back home here in Hyogo.”

“Good to have you back,” Osamu told him.

“Good to be back,” Kita replied.

But he was smiling at Atsumu.

\--

Kita was suddenly a prominent part of their lives again, and it reminded him of simpler times. It started with Kita visiting Osamu in Onigiri Miya, then visiting Osamu in the apartment to discuss recipes.

Atsumu, who’d started living in Osamu’s guest bedroom since his “sabbatical,” suddenly felt the urge to at least try to shape up. That was what the constant presence of your old captain would do to you, he supposed. Even Osamu would sometimes get nervous when making Kita try a new onigiri flavor.

And then Kita started visiting the apartment, even when Osamu wasn’t there. But Atsumu, who had no will and no life, was.

“So, you’ve been trending these past few days,” Kita informed him one day, taking food out from a paper bag. “Did you know?”

“No, why? I’m on a social media hiatus.” He didn’t need to be accosted by news and photos of the newest Adler.

“The Black Jackals finally released a statement, informing the public of your ‘indefinite’ sabbatical.”

He sat up straight from where he was slumped over on the couch. “No shit? Huh. Guess they’ve put it off as long as they could. They’d need to recruit a back-up setter soon.” He hasn’t been in touch with anyone from his team. He hasn’t been in touch with most of everyone, actually.

Kita shrugged, like he didn’t care about that part. “They said you were taking a break for ‘personal reasons’ and asked that people give you privacy. Still, people have been tweeting kind words and messages of support for you. Well, mostly kind.”

Atsumu nodded slowly. “That’s nice of them.”

“It is. Don’t you think you should maybe thank them?” Kita asked pointedly.

His former captain hasn’t changed. Atsumu couldn’t help but feel amused. “Maybe,” he allowed.

What would he even say? _Hey, guys, sorry, but I’ve forgotten the meaning of life now that my greatest love and the person meant to be my future walked out on me? And volleyball is a surefire way to remind me of him, and playing without him by my side is unfathomable to me?_

But then, it didn’t seem right to just drop off the map. He felt he owed his supporters more than that.

Later that night, he posted a statement on all his social media accounts.

“To my friends, supporters, and fans: Thank you for the past seven years. I never could have reached this far without every single one of you. Your kind words have meant a lot to me during these tough times. I am just going through some personal struggles right now, but I promise that this isn’t the last you’ll see of me. I don’t know when I’ll be back on the court again, but it will happen. One day. To my family in the Black Jackals: don’t get too comfy. I’ll be giving you hell again before you know it. To the next setter: keep my spot warm for me, will ya? Love, Atsumu.”

When he got home, Osamu smacked him over the head and said, “You can’t tone down your shitty self, even for an official statement?”

But he looked proud.

And Atsumu was surprised to realize he was proud of himself, too.

\--

Atsumu wouldn’t say that things got better from there, but it did get less horrible.

He kicked the alcohol to the curb, but found an unholy obsession in watching sad romance movies. He’d cry during each of them. And sometimes he’d cry for no reason, while he was showering, or preparing tea, or when he passed by the personal hygiene section of the grocery. That was embarrassing.

He realized that he could never, ever stop loving Kiyoomi. In the beginning, he hated that. But as time passed, he thought he could learn to live with that.

Because he never wanted to give up the part of him that was still, and always will be, Kiyoomi’s.

**[The next 6 months]**

Life went on. That was the curse of it. Unfortunately, the world must keep turning on its axis. Days turn to nights. Weeks turn to months.

He’d taken to going on solo walks, found a habit in watching people. Osamu said if he wasn’t going to do anything with his life, he should start a hobby. He picked up photography, for some reason, feeling spiteful as he bought a DSLR camera, tapping from his savings that was meant to go to his future house with Kiyoomi. He liked taking candid pictures of strangers during his walks. Sometimes, when Kita would visit his farm, Atsumu would tag along and take photos there, too. He found the vastness therapeutic, but found he wasn’t much of a landscape photographer.

It took months and months before he could pick up a volleyball. He asked Osamu if he wanted to hit some of his tosses and his twin jumped up like he’d been waiting for him to ask. He probably was.

That first session, he burst into hysterical tears midway through.

“I miss him,” he sobbed into Osamu’s shoulder. “I miss him every second of every day.”

Osamu sighed and patted him on the back.

His birthday in October came and went with no word from Kiyoomi. He broke down then, too.

Osamu started making plans on opening an Onigiri Miya branch in Tokyo. There was quite a demand for it, people flooding the shop’s email and social media accounts. His business was doing well enough that he could hire more staff to man the original shop in Hyogo. And the move would put him in the same city as Suna, finally.

But it would rip him away from Atsumu. This was apparently reason enough for Osamu to hesitate on it. So Atsumu said, “Then I’ll move to Tokyo, too, when the time comes.”

Osamu’s face brightened, like all his problems have been solved.

Atsumu started taking care of himself again. He returned to a stricter diet, started working out every day at home. His hair got so long that after a haircut, he was sporting a full head of his natural dark hair, no blonde in sight. He realized he must have looked like a hobo after over half a year of giving no care to his appearance.

Osamu and Kita stared at him when he came home with his new hair in January.

“What do you think? I look like you again, Samu.”

“Yeah, it’s fuckin’ weird. You keeping that color?”

“Not sure. For now, yeah, but I have a feeling I’ll miss the blonde.”

“I like the dark brown,” Kita said finally.

And one February day, Kita visited the apartment when it was just Atsumu there. He sat in front of him in the living room and said, apropos of nothing, “Atsumu, I have feelings for you.”

Atsumu could only stare.

“I understand if you couldn’t return my feelings. I know you are still healing from…” He didn’t say Kiyoomi’s name. Nobody said his name anymore, not even Atsumu.

“Kita, I...I’m a mess. I’ve been my worst self all this time. Why would you want me?”

Kita smiled. “I just want you. For all that you are. Broken parts included.”

He opened his mouth, about to automatically refuse, then he closed it again. He thought of Kiyoomi, who showed up with Ushijima not even three months after they broke up. Thought of his own future. There was no Kiyoomi anymore. Was he going to be alone all his life?

“I don’t know...how much of myself I can give you.” _Because a lot of me is still Omi’s._ “But I think...I want to try.”

Kita’s smile turned blinding.

Osamu spent nights talking to Suna on the phone. Spent days interviewing people he could hire. Every once in a while, he had to go to Tokyo to submit some documents, conduct an ocular, or check on the site where his tiny shop was being built.

Atsumu told Kita he was moving to Tokyo. He didn’t know what was going to become of their slowly burgeoning romance, was prepared to end it if he had to. But Kita said, “Atsumu I am only needed in the farm for two short periods of time in a year. I can go anywhere. Besides, I’d like to help Osamu out with Onigiri Miya.”

So by the time April came, they were ready.

They were going to Tokyo.

**[March 2022]**

Kiyoomi thought he was doing well.

He liked his team just fine — they just won the V. League championship. He finally remembered what it was like to do what he loved, and be able to bask in that high freely, without the looming anxiety over another inevitable argument, another fight, another stressful night with Atsumu.

But that was the problem of course. There was no more Atsumu.

No more lazy days cuddling in bed. No more arms surprising him with a hug from behind. No more nights spent intertwined under the sheets.

When he left Atsumu, he left all the painful and heavy feelings behind. But he also left most of himself behind.

Wasn’t it ironic that he left to find himself, only to realize that a part of him will always be missing?

He learned to live with it, of course. He had to. He had a new team relying on him, and he didn’t want to disappoint Wakatoshi, who had become a good friend over the past year. He had also become friends with Hoshiumi Kourai, who was a force to be reckoned with on the court. He’d already known that, of course.

His cousin, Komori Motoya, had also transferred to the Adlers, when he found out Kiyoomi was there. He had demanded the whole story from him, smacking him and yelling about never opening up to him despite all the years they’ve known each other.

Since then, he’d insisted on being a “pillar of support.”

And so mentally, Kiyoomi was in a better place. Emotionally? That was still up in the air.

He still found himself gazing at the night sky, thinking of hot chocolate and mochi, remembering a voice saying, _You have to kiss me at midnight, Omi-Omi, so that we’ll stay together the rest of the year._

He still found himself wondering: If he got over himself that night, shoved his way over to Atsumu, and kissed him at midnight, would they still be alright now?

Would they never have learned to be unhappy with each other?

The first few months after leaving Atsumu were so difficult to get through that he had to buy himself a weighted blanket to help him sleep. He’d taken to placing his phone far away from the bed to keep himself from dialing Atsumu’s number.

Until now, he’d sometimes wake up from a dream he couldn’t remember, and his face would be wet, as would his pillow. And whenever he’d remember Atsumu breaking down in that restaurant, he had to take a moment to compose himself.

But Kiyoomi was fine. He was better than he had been a year ago. Better — not necessarily happier.

He couldn’t decide which was worse: bad days with Atsumu, or good days without him.

On difficult days, he’d think it was the latter.

The first time he walked past a shop under construction, big bold letters reading “Onigiri Miya,” he stopped in his tracks.

 _Osamu is coming to Tokyo,_ he thought. And he couldn’t help but wonder where Atsumu was.

He had read his statement, of course, about taking time off from volleyball due to personal reasons. He had read it, understood it, and proceeded to hold himself under his weighted blanket as he shook in grief and guilt.

There hasn’t been an update since that post. No one has seen or heard from Atsumu for the past eight months.

Kiyoomi could only hope, with the tiniest bit of desperation, that he was doing well.

And then, out of nowhere, he got a call from Osamu.

“Hey, Omi-kun!” Correct nickname, wrong voice.

“Osamu,” he greeted. “This is a surprise.”

“I know, sorry,” the other man said, sheepishly. “I actually have a favor to ask. Well, technically, I’m proposing a deal.”

“What.” Dealing with either Miya twin is hardly ever a good idea. And he’d gotten to know them both pretty well.

“Well, I’m opening a Tokyo branch…”

“I saw. Congratulations.”

“Thanks! And, well, I need publicity.”

Kiyoomi could see where this was going. He sighed. “Samu.”

“Just a few ads!” Osamu pleaded. “You and whoever from your team is willing, come on, please, I’ll pay you all.”

Kiyoomi massaged his temple. He did want to help Osamu. And working with him was bound to be better than other campaigns he worked on, because at least Osamu knew about his fussiness. “What do I need to do?”

“Just a series of photoshoots,” Osamu said cheerfully. “But, er, I have to warn you about who my photographer is.”

“Who?”

“It’s uh, it’s Tsumu.”

He couldn’t make a sound.

“He kinda picked up the hobby these past months, and well, he wanted to help, and at least I don’t have to pay for a photographer…”

Atsumu? Photographer? He couldn’t imagine it. He couldn’t imagine Atsumu being anything other than a volleyball player.

Will he never play anymore?

Then he realized, _Atsumu is coming to Tokyo._

“Omi-kun?” Osamu prompted.

“Yes, that’s fine,” he said automatically. “If he’s fine with it.”

“Yeah, I already talked to him. He said it’s fine, if you’re fine with it.”

“Then I guess we don’t have a problem.”

“Great! Let me know if anyone else agrees!”

“Fine.”

“Thanks, Omi-kun!” Osamu hung up.

_Atsumu is coming to Tokyo._

Why did he suddenly feel alive?

**[April 2022]**

Almost a year to the day that he left Miya Atsumu, he saw him again.

He didn’t realize it was him at first. He and a handful of his teammates were approaching Onigiri Miya in Shinjuku, which had finished construction and was gearing up for its grand opening, when he spotted familiar dark hair standing outside.

Kiyoomi called out, “Hey, Osa — Tsumu?” He stopped in his tracks, when the figure turned to face him. His teammates stopped too, unsure.

Atsumu also looked unprepared to see him, even though he surely knew he was coming. “Omi! I — hi.”

They stared at each other for what had to be an uncomfortably long few seconds.

Motoya cleared his throat. Remembering himself, Kiyoomi said, “Your — your hair. It’s...dark.” He was still handsome. But different.

Atsumu blinked and automatically touched his head. “Oh. Right. I just forgot to get a haircut...for a few months, and when I finally did, all the blonde was gone. Funny how that happened.” Then he looked away like he realized he gave away too much.

Kiyoomi swallowed and looked down. Told himself now was not the time to cry.

Then the door opened and Osamu was saying, “Tsumu, what’s taking so — oh.”

Osamu looked from Atsumu to Kiyoomi, taking in their tense faces, the undeniable emotion in the air. For a moment he looked worried, like he realized he’d miscalculated. Then he composed himself and smiled at Kiyoomi and the rest of the Schweiden Adlers. “Yo! Thanks for coming! Come in, please. Tsumu, get the fuck inside.”

Everyone was silent as they trooped in. Five of them were able to participate in Osamu’s campaign, including Wakatoshi, Hoshiumi, Komori, and their other teammate Sokolov Tatsuto.

“We’re just going to take pictures of you guys chilling and eating in the shop today. But we’ll need each of you guys to come in solo for a shoot, it depends on your schedule when you want to hold it. We’re not opening until the next month anyway, we have a few weeks.”

They nodded.

Osamu glanced at his twin, frowning a little. Then he said, “Tsumu, Kita was calling a while ago, you should call him back.”

For a moment, Atsumu gazed absently at Osamu, as if he didn’t know who this Kita was. The name sounded familiar to Kiyoomi. “Kita,” Atsumu muttered.

Then Atsumu straightened, eyes snapping into focus. “Oh shit, Kita.” He hurried off.

Osamu briefly closed his eyes, as if in grief. Then he opened them and looked hard at Kiyoomi. “Kita Shinsuke. His boyfriend.”

Kiyoomi tried not to show how the words sliced his heart clean into half. He jerked his head into a nod. He ignored his teammates’ heavy stares on his face.

“Wow,” Hoshiumi muttered. “I know I wanted to witness some drama, but this is…”

More than anyone bargained for. As usual.

“Heartbreaking,” Sokolov finished.

“Shut up,” Kiyoomi ground out.

Osamu was studying Kiyoomi now. “How’ve you been, Omi-kun?”

“Just fine, Samu.”

Osamu’s eyes flickered to Komori and then back to Kiyoomi. “Right.”

And then Atsumu was making his way back into the room. “Okay, I’m back, let’s do this thing.”

\--

The tension slipped away like it was never there at all. The team had a lot of fun posing for “candid” shots, and Atsumu of course always knew how to crack people up.

Everyone got comfortable enough around him to start tossing him some questions.

“So, photography?” Motoya asked, looking bemused.

Atsumu shrugged. “I was on sabbatical for the longest time. Had nothing to do, and I dunno. Just randomly picked it up.”

“The sabbatical —” Motoya hesitated. “Was it like, mandated?” _Did they kick you out,_ was what he was really asking. There had been rumors of that, too.

“Nah, coach wouldn’t do that to me,” Atsumu assured. “I asked for a break and Foster basically said take all the time you need, come back if you ever want to.”

It was surreal how everyone was just skirting around the reason Atsumu had to take a break in the first place.

“Are you not playing volleyball again?” Hoshiumi demanded. “I still want to beat you, dammit!”

Atsumu rolled his eyes at that, face betraying his amusement. “I admit, I stopped for a few months, and I’m nowhere near in shape right now. But I _will_ play again, so don’t get your panties up in a twist. Jeez, you haven’t changed.”

“When do you plan on making a comeback?” Wakatoshi inquired politely.

This time, Atsumu’s face was tense when he looked at Wakatoshi, and Kiyoomi was suddenly reminded of his incorrect presumption that night in the restaurant. Did he still think Kiyoomi and Wakatoshi were together? Did he really think Kiyoomi could pick himself up that fast? That he could forget him that fast? He could barely get out of bed the first month.

In a rather clipped voice, Atsumu said, “No date yet.”

They take a few more shots, this time of smaller groups posing around different areas of the shop.

Atsumu directed Motoya and Kiyoomi to sit on the bar stools on the counter, and they obeyed. Osamu disappeared to get drinks and food for props. Luckily, he didn’t have to actually eat it. Yet.

“Don’t worry,” Atsumu told Kiyoomi. He waved a packet of antibacterial wet wipes. “We can disinfect the counter before you lean on it.”

And he proceeded to do just that.

The action brought Atsumu’s face closer to Kiyoomi’s and he took the chance to inspect it. Time never let Kiyoomi forget his sheer beauty, but it still didn’t prepare him to gaze upon it personally and up close. His heart did a broken little flop in his chest.

He wanted to trace Atsumu’s cheekbones, which were more prominent now, as if he’d lost weight. He missed his more rounded cheeks, missed planting kisses there. He wanted to place a hand over Atsumu’s and ask how he could still remember the brand of wet wipes that Kiyoomi preferred.

But he was somebody else’s now. He felt like crying. _You have no right,_ his brain told him.

When he realized he was very obviously staring at Atsumu’s face, and that everyone else was staring at _him_ , Kiyoomi felt compelled to say, “You look weird with dark hair.”

Atsumu turned his head to look at him. “Because I look like Samu right? I kept telling him he’s the uglier twin, dammit.”

They stared at each other. Then they burst out laughing.

“I miss the blonde though,” Atsumu finally said, once he caught his breath. He straightened and leaned against the counter, facing Kiyoomi. Turning all his attention to him.

Kiyoomi almost said, _me too,_ but managed to say, “It will be more fun to bleach it again now.”

“That’s what I said! I might have saved my hair from irreparable damage by accidentally growing it out.”

“Now you can damage it all over again.”

Atsumu pouted. “I’ll have a professional do it so I won’t accidentally end up bald.”

The mental image of a bald Atsumu amused Kiyoomi greatly. He tried not to smile.

“You’re secretly laughing at me, aren’t you? I’ll have you know I’ll probably rock the bald look.”

Kiyoomi lost the battle with his smile. “You really won’t. Besides, you’ll probably cry like a baby.”

Atsumu paused. “Yeah, fine, you’re right. I can’t bear to be ugly, okay, I get nightmares about that.”

“I know,” Kiyoomi snorted. Atsumu used to regale him with those nightmares, with all the dramatics of a five-year-old. “Your vanity knows no bounds.”

“Part of my charm,” Atsumu grinned at him. Kiyoomi grinned back.

It was nice, being able to talk and laugh with Atsumu. It reminded him of happier times, before their relationship took a turn for the worse.

It reminded him of why he fell in love with him in the first place. Drop dead gorgeous Miya Atsumu. Behind the intimidating facade was a funny, considerate, _kind_ dork.

And a fragile heart that he ground into dust.

He couldn’t help but ask, softly, “How are you, Tsumu?”

Atsumu’s smile softened, and a little bit of melancholy crept in. “I’m good, Omi-Omi.”

The nickname was an arrow to the heart and he tried not to show how it still affected him. Instead, he sincerely, if a bit hoarsely, said, “I’m glad.”

“And you?” Atsumu was searching his face now. “Are you happy?”

Kiyoomi shrugged a shoulder. When he realized he couldn’t open his mouth and force out a yes, he nodded. _Lie._

“That’s all I want.” Then Atsumu looked down, but not before Kiyoomi saw his pained expression.

A year wasn’t enough, Kiyoomi realized with painful clarity. Not for Atsumu, and definitely not for him.

A lifetime wouldn’t have been enough.

Kiyoomi looked quickly away, blinking rapidly. In doing so, he accidentally met the gaze of Osamu, whom he hadn’t realized was back. He looked like he’d been there a while actually.

He looked like he witnessed something he wished he could take back.

“Let’s get this over with,” Osamu finally said. Pursing his lips, he set up the food and drinks on the counter.

After they wrapped up the shoot, Osamu handed them bags of onigiri, and told them to text him when they’re coming for the solo shoot.

“It will be fun! It’ll take all of an hour,” he assured.

Atsumu waved at them. “Bye.”

“Good to see you well, Atsumu,” Hoshiumi said in a surprisingly genuine voice. “I wondered.”

Atsumu shifted his weight to one foot. “You and the rest of Japan.”

That was true enough.

As they walked away, Kiyoomi couldn’t resist one last glance backwards. Atsumu was watching him. They both looked away.

When Onigiri Miya was out of sight, Wakatoshi said, “I don’t think that was the best idea.”

“You think?” Hoshiumi said. “Holy shit. I think I just watched two idiots fall in love again at second sight.”

“I’m worried,” Motoya said, frowning. “I am really worried about this.”

“There is nothing to worry about. He's already with someone, and I’m fine,” Kiyoomi said firmly.

“If you saw the way you were looking at him, you wouldn’t say that. And you were almost crying back there, don’t even fucking front with me.” Kiyoomi looked extremely unhappy. 

“That was also the first time I saw Kiyoomi laugh, or even smile, this past year,” Wakatoshi observed lightly.

“I’m not as familiar with the drama,” Sokolov said. “But that made me truly sad. Is there no chance…?”

If Kiyoomi were to be honest, that was the same question he wanted to ask Atsumu. But again, he had no right.

Kiyoomi shook his head. “We broke up for a reason. We ruined us quite thoroughly already.”

“But that looked like a once in a lifetime kind of love,” Sokolov mourned.

“Yeah and we lost it,” Kiyoomi finally snapped. “Just — I don’t want to hear about this anymore.” _It hurts._

Wakatoshi was right, joining this campaign wasn’t a good idea.

So why did his heartbeat pick up at the thought of seeing Atsumu again?

\--

Kiyoomi tried not to look eager when practice wrapped up. He was meeting Atsumu for his solo shoot in an hour.

In the locker room, Motoya looked at him as if he was making the greatest mistake of his life.

“Shut it,” he told his cousin.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Motoya scoffed. “Except that you look freaky with those bright eyes and blushing cheeks. Need I remind you that you were the one who left him and that he has a boyfriend now?”

“That’s hard to forget but thanks,” Kiyoomi bit out.

“I’m just trying to say be careful. You’re finally at a good place. Don’t fuck yourself up.”

“I believe Kiyoomi knows what’s good for Kiyoomi,” Wakatoshi said from his locker.

Motoya whirled around to face him. “You know, I didn’t take you for an enabler, Ushiwaka.”

“I’m no such thing,” Wakatoshi said calmly. “I just know that whatever decision he makes, he does so with deep contemplation.”

Motoya sighed. “Okay, whatever, I give up. Text me when you need a reality slap.”

\--

In what had to be the most ironic moment in history, Kiyoomi got caught in the rain in the 15-minute walk from the station to Onigiri Miya. The moment he felt the droplets, he ran to the nearest shelter and watched despairingly as it started to pour.

He didn’t know if Atsumu had the same number after all this time, or if he blocked him, which he deserved. Should he text Osamu? That was probably the best course of action.

But his fingers hovered over his screen, and he remembered this time last year when he was also stuck in the rain, and he called Inunaki instead. “Why didn’t you come to me?” Atsumu had asked, sounding hurt.

He tapped on Atsumu’s name instead.

Atsumu picked up immediately. “Omi?” he asked hesitantly.

 _He knew it was me._ “Yeah,” he cleared his throat. “It’s raining. I’m stuck outside some shop but I’m in Shinjuku now.”

“I’ll come get you. Text me the location.”

10 minutes later, Atsumu’s figure appeared in the distance, holding up an umbrella. Memories accosted him and for a second, he felt disoriented. Then Atsumu met his gaze and smiled, and he was grounded in the present once again.

“Still not a fan of rain, huh?” Atsumu said as he reached him.

Kiyoomi glared at him. “I don’t know anyone who’s a fan of rain.”

“Hey, I like it when it’s raining. But only when I’m inside.”

Kiyoomi knew that. He remembered mornings curled up in bed watching the storm outside, sipping tea, sometimes listening to music _to set the mood, Omi._

Pushing the memories down, he stepped under Atsumu’s umbrella, and they started to walk.

He wondered if Atsumu was remembering the good times too, or that cursed night that ended it all.

“So,” he began, trying to escape his thoughts. “Kita, huh? How long have you been together?” He winced internally. He didn’t mean to ask that.

“Almost two months, I think? It’s pretty new.”

“Oh.”

“What about you and Wakatoshi? How long has it been now?”

Kiyoomi stopped. So Atsumu _did_ think they were together.

Atsumu jerked to a stop, too, arm stretching to keep the umbrella over Kiyoomi’s head.

“We were never together,” Kiyoomi said mildly. Then he started walking again.

There was a pause before Atsumu hurried forwards to catch up to him. “Oh.” They walked in silence for a few seconds. “I thought…”

“Yeah. I know what you thought. I...I didn’t mean to give that impression. At the time I just wanted moral support.”

_“Oh.”_

Kiyoomi’s lips twisted up bitterly. “You thought too highly of me. Or too lowly. I could never decide.”

“You just looked so...well put together. I don’t know. And you were the one who left in the first place.”

So they were talking about this now. He braced himself. It’s been a year. It’s fine.

“Leaving you was the hardest and single most painful thing I ever had to do, and I’m sorry I had to do it. But that doesn’t mean that I didn’t suffer. We don’t all cope with pain and loss the same way. Just because I don’t show it, doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings.”

Atsumu was silent the rest of the way.

When they reached the shop, Kiyoomi hurried in, eager to get out of the rain and the lingering heartache. He was shaking off the droplets that clung to his sleeves, when a towel appeared in his vision.

“Here.”

Kiyoomi jerked his head up and saw a man with light gray hair with black tips regarding him with an unreadable look on his face. Cautiously, he took the cloth.

“Kita, hey,” Atsumu greeted from behind him, and Kiyoomi’s stomach fell to his stomach.

Kita Shinsuke, he remembered now that he’s seen him. Atsumu’s old captain...and his old crush.

He felt like breaking something.

Kita smiled over Kiyoomi’s shoulder and walked past him. Despite himself, Kiyoomi watched as Kita leaned up and kissed Atsumu on the lips.

_Is this what a slow death feels like?_

“Omi, this is Kita, Kita, this is Omi,” Atsumu said, gesturing between them. His left hand was curled around Kita’s waist.

Kiyoomi unhooked his mask from his ears to remove it. “Nice to meet you,” he said as politely and stoically as he could manage. He stuffed the discarded mask in his jacket pocket.

Kita was running his eyes across his face. “Nice to meet you, too.”

Clueless of the tension that was starting to build, Atsumu kissed Kita on the cheek before letting him go. He started walking further into the shop.

“C’mon, Omi-Omi, we’re all set up over here. I know you hate onigiri but you’re going to have to pretend to eat it and like it, dammit.”

Kiyoomi followed, shaking head free of the many unwanted thoughts in his brain. “Just pretend to eat it, right?”

“I mean it would be great if you actually ate it…”

“Tsumu.”

“Just one bite, come on!”

“That thing was squeezed repeatedly between the bare hands of god knows who…”

“It’s just Samu.”

“Even worse.”

Atsumu blinked at him. They both startled out a laugh.

“Oh man. You’re making _me_ grossed out by the onigiri, too. Stop it. Just eat it, please?”

Kiyoomi briefly shut his eyes and sighed heavily. " _One_ bite. I mean it. One bite, so you better get that shot immediately.”

Atsumu saluted. “Yes, d—sir.”

They both pretended not to hear the near slip. _Yes, dear,_ he was going to say.

Kiyoomi sat on the chair by a window that Atsumu pointed at, and started removing his jacket.

“Here, gimme.” Atsumu reached a hand out and he handed over the coat.

Then Kiyoomi used the towel Kita got him to pat at his hands and then his shoes. He handed over the towel to Atsumu, who took that, too.

“Do you not need to —?” He gestured to his face and his hair.

In the last shoot, the team had arrived already done up, having helped each other look presentable before leaving their dorms. But while Kiyoomi took pains to look presentable today, he didn’t apply powder or any such thing — plus he got a little bit rained on.

Atsumu settled on a stool in front of him, hand clutching the digital camera, and studied him. “Er. I don’t actually know that part, I’m used to street photography…I mean, the designer who’s gonna make the social media ads and posters can just edit the photos right?”

“Wow, you suck at this.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know I take decent photos,” Atsumu huffed a breath. “Besides I think you look good. I mean fine. You look fine. Let’s start.”

Kiyoomi was suddenly aware of Osamu’s presence. He was hovering at the side with a plate of onigiri.

“Samu,” he greeted.

“Sup, Omi-kun. I don’t think make-up or hair is necessary, don’t worry about it. And Tsumu’s right, we can fix it in post.”

Kiyoomi sighed in relief. He didn’t like using other people’s products. “Thank god.”

Atsumu snorted.

Kiyoomi tried his best to follow Atsumu’s instructions. _Tried_ being the operative word.

They were only 10 minutes into it (five of which were wasted on Atsumu’s test shots) when Kiyoomi ground out, “You _said_ only one bite.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t look like you were enjoying that at all!” Atsumu complained.

“Because I wasn’t!”

“You have to pretend, Omi!”

“But Samu touched and squeezed and poked at this!”

Atsumu smacked a hand in his forehead and started to laugh. “I don’t think I can eat another of your onigiri again, Samu, the mental image in my brain will be there forever now.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Osamu said, pinching his nose. “That’s it, we’re breaking out the chazuke.”

“I’ll get it,” Kita’s quiet voice said. Kiyoomi felt a jolt, only just remembering he was there.

While they waited, Kiyoomi rested a hand on his palm and gazed out the rain-splattered window. For the first time, he thought Wakatoshi was wrong and that he wasn’t fully in control of his decision-making these days.

He shouldn’t have agreed to this. What was he thinking?

What was _Osamu_ thinking?

The sound of the camera shutter pulled him out of his thoughts. He glanced at Atsumu, who still had the camera trained on him. He clicked the shutter button again.

Kiyoomi scowled at him. “Stop.”

“You’re literally my model, Omi. Let’s try the onigiri one more time. Please?”

Kiyoomi sighed. Stupid Atsumu. He could charm anyone into doing whatever he asked.

He picked up the onigiri, his stomach queasy.

“You don’t have to chew it or swallow or anything, just like, bite it, maybe?”

He could stand that much.

He raised the onigiri to his mouth, but froze when there was a familiar touch on a familiar spot on his forehead. Atsumu murmured, “Your curl is being a brat again.”

Gentle fingers moved across his skin before smoothing his hair back in place. Then the touch was gone. It took all of Kiyoomi not to grab that hand and place it on his cheek. He felt bereft and suddenly ravenous, but not for food.

“It has a mind of its own,” he croaked out.

Atsumu smiled at him fondly, like he couldn’t help it. “Okay, _now_ you can bite it.”

He pulled himself together. “This is the _last one,_ I mean it, Miya. I can’t handle any more.”

“I know, I know. I’ll get it, promise.”

Just as Kiyoomi was carefully placing the rice ball between his teeth, trying to simultaneously prevent it from touching the inside of his mouth, Atsumu said, “Just remember the time Bo tried dancing like Michael Jackson.”

The sudden memory had Kiyoomi grinning, making him bite down on the onigiri automatically. The shutter button went off, and Atsumu declared, “Got it, see, I told you.”

Kiyoomi wanted to kick him, especially because the piece of onigiri he had between his teeth was suddenly so unpleasant. He tried to say “Tsumu” without moving his mouth.

Atsumu still perked up to attention and then came close, one hand reaching for the tissues on the table. “Wait, here —”

But Kiyoomi needed it out, _now_ , as he thought he might actually be sick. He grabbed Atsumu’s hand by the wrist and delicately dropped the piece of onigiri on his hand from between his teeth. Like how a cat would offer its master a dead mouse. He considered it revenge.

“ _Kiyoomi_ ,” Atsumu said exasperated. He had his _I can’t believe you did this shit again_ face, because _heh_. He had actually done this before, when he realized too late that he didn’t like a piece of food.

Atsumu didn’t pull his hand away.

“Water,” Kiyoomi demanded. “No not water, something frizzy and has flavor, hurry.”

“Here,” Osamu said, handing him a soda. Kita was hovering behind him, carrying a plate.

Kiyoomi let go of Atsumu’s wrist and reached for the can. He cracked it open when he checked and saw it had zero sugar, then gulped down the drink, relieved when it washed away the taste.

“I am never doing this for you again, Samu, never,” he declared when he was calmer.

“I won’t invite you again,” Osamu said, scowling. “You’re such a _pain_. How do actual prod teams handle you?”

“They’re professionals,” he said, with a pointed look at Atsumu.

Atsumu seemed to have gotten rid of the piece of onigiri and was cleaning his hand with a wet wipe. He gave Kiyoomi a pointed look right back. “I hope you don’t spit out your food on their hands, at least.”

“Of course not, I wouldn’t do that to them. That’s rude.”

“Wow.” Atsumu shook his head, lips slightly upturned.

“Yeah,” Osamu said drily. “Wow.”

\--

When he returned to the dorms, Motoya, Wakatoshi, and Hoshiumi were in the common room waiting for him.

“Well?” Hoshiumi demanded. “How was it?”

Kiyoomi hesitated, wanting nothing more than to flee to his room. But these were the people who helped pick him up, even when he was shutting them out. They were just concerned because they saw the worst of it. Sighing, he sat down on the couch.

“Kita was there,” he said.

“Oh crap,” Motoya said. “Is he good-looking? Was he mean?”

“I have already searched for his profile,” Wakatoshi reported. He presented his phone to the other two, who hummed and tilted their heads left and right.

“He’s alright,” Motoya said. “Looks pretty sensible. What’s he doing with Atsumu? And what’s that, why is he on a farm? He’s a farmer? Why is he in Tokyo?”

“His hair is cool,” Hoshiumi admitted.

“He was Atsumu’s old captain in high school. He used to have a thing for him,” Kiyoomi said.

Hoshiumi whistled. “Damn.”

“Same hometown then,” Motoya surmised. “Atsumu must have been in Hyogo all this time.”

The thought of Kita helping Atsumu through his heartbreak made his stomach turn unpleasantly.

“Was he at least pleasant?” Wakatoshi asked.

He wished he could say no. Lips turned downwards, he answered. “Yes. But he was looking at me a strange way.”

“Like how?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t actually pay attention to him much today.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Motoya snorted. “I hope Atsumu at least _did_ , though.”

He opted not to tell them about Atsumu touching his moles, which he always said were his favorite. He didn’t tell them about how it was so easy for Atsumu to make him smile.

Instead he admitted, “They seem...happy.”

Later, when he was curled up all alone in bed, his mind replayed the memory of Atsumu holding Kita by the waist. Of Atsumu kissing his cheek.

 _You gave that up,_ his brain reminded him. _That used to be you._

His pillow was wet with tears again that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How y'all doing


	3. The End, Again

**[Still April 2022]**

Their last photoshoot needed the whole group and apparently they were holding it outdoors, for a change of pace.

Atsumu was grumbling because apparently, he hated taking landscapes, and disliked taking photos of nature in general.

“It’s boring,” he whined. “They’re just there. City is more interesting.”

“Just admit you suck and go,” Osamu said.

Atsumu poked his tongue out at him.

It was still strange for Kiyoomi to see them look so alike. Although it was easy for him to spot which one was Atsumu.

The shoot was generally painless, despite his mood. It was easier for Kiyoomi to pose in groups, because he wasn’t being nitpicked, and the focus wasn’t all on him. Besides, if his fans saw him fake laughing in a photo with a group, they would question if he was replaced with a pod person. He wasn’t known for his social skills.

After, they all trooped to Onigiri Miya for final shots and last minute redos of photos that ended up not as good as Atsumu expected once it was blown up in a laptop screen. He’d always been a perfectionist.

This is where the day took a nosedive.

Kiyoomi tried to manage himself, he did. But he was feeling prickly and uncomfortable, and it made him fussier than usual. And the more frustrated he got when they had to retake his photos, the worse he got.

It was one of those episodes where he just spirals.

Atsumu sighed and started massaging his forehead. “Omi. That’s a chazuke, it should be fine for you to eat. I’m just asking that you not look miserable eating it.”

“I’m. Trying.” He grit out.

“What’s _wrong_?”

Kiyoomi pursed his lips. He was agitated, annoyed. He really thought he could be a decent enough person for this. But he was proving himself wrong.

Atsumu made an annoyed sound. “God. Not this again. How many times do I have to tell you that I can’t fix it if I don’t know what’s wrong?”

“How many times do I have to tell you that you can’t fix everything?” he snapped back.

They glared at each other in the tense silence.

Kiyoomi distantly heard Osamu telling his teammates that it was _best if you go, this might be ugly._

Wonderful. They weren’t even together anymore, and they had to display all their past issues to everyone. _Again_.

“Let’s just wrap this up,” Atsumu muttered, slumping. “It’s fine, we can just fix the old photo.”

Kiyoomi was all for that. He stood up, feeling oddly defeated.

He tried to help clean up, but Osamu waved him away, saying he got it and thanking him for his time. Kiyoomi felt guilty.

But once he stepped out of the shop, he heard footsteps following him. He sighed internally and stalked his way to an alleyway, already anticipating the confrontation.

“Well? What was that about?” Atsumu asked. He sounded patient, which ticked Kiyoomi off.

“Nothing. I don’t know.”

“Omi. You were miserable the entire afternoon.”

So he was.

“Can you just tell me what’s wrong please?”

“What’s it matter to you?” He whirled around to face him.

“I just want to know the problem!”

“ _I’m_ the problem, okay?” he finally said, voice raising. “So you can just fuck off!”

 _“What?”_ Atsumu demanded, like he was truly confused now.

Kiyoomi was getting overwhelmed by the mess of his feelings, and becoming highly frustrated because Atsumu wasn’t _getting it._

“I just can’t get _rid of you!_ ” Kiyoomi yelled, his voice breaking. “You’re in my head, you’re in my dreams, you’re in everything of me, and — and — I’m upset because the campaign is over, and I probably won’t see you again, and you’ll return to Kita, and it’s all my fault. It’s all _my fault_.” He started crying.

Atsumu was staring at him, his eyes wide like this was the last thing he expected. Kiyoomi knew this wasn’t fair. But he already sliced himself open, and the words he’d been suppressing came tumbling out.

Sobbing, he said, “I hate that I feel this way. I hate that I get hurt every time I think of you and Kita together, I hate that it hurts every time we have to part, because I have no right. _I have no right_. And I am a horrible, horrible person because I keep hoping and waiting for you to say that...you still choose me anyway. That you choose me again. That you’ll...always choose me. No matter what.”

With all the bravery he had left in him, he looked Atsumu in the eye and said, “Atsumu. I’m still in love with you.”

Atsumu had a devastated expression on his face. “Omi, I — I’m with Kita.”

Kiyoomi sniffled. “I know.” He let out a breath, defeated. “I know.”

“He loved me at my worst.” Atsumu gazed at him beseechingly. “You had me at my best. And you threw it all away.”

“Is that what you think?” The words hit a nerve with Kiyoomi. How could he still not understand? “You changed my life, Atsumu. You changed _me_. I just needed to know if it was for the better or for the worse. I just made a _choice_.”

“And you chose to break my heart!” Atsumu finally snapped, tears dripping from his eyes. “You broke my _heart_ , Omi-Omi. And everything else of me.”

The anger left him in a rush. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry that I hurt you, Tsumu. I’m sorry that I’m hurting you even now.”

Atsumu pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and sighed. “Just when I thought I was getting better, Kiyoomi. All these months...it just wasn’t enough. Why’d you have to come back in my life again?”

“Sorry.” Kiyoomi couldn’t believe he made them endure another heartbreak. Dully, he said, “Don’t worry. It’s over. You won’t be seeing me again. I just...I needed to say it. Sorry.”

He stepped back, and it was like bidding goodbye to his heart. He was never getting it back for as long as he lived. He didn’t think he even wanted it. “Goodbye, Atsumu.”

For the second time in his life, he turned his back on Atsumu and walked away.

\--

When he finally dragged himself into the dorms and saw his friends on the couch, he didn’t have it in himself to even deny that he needed them. He plopped down beside them, slumped over Wakatoshi’s legs, and cried.

  
  


**[May 2022]**

Onigiri Miya’s first Tokyo branch kicked off with a bang. Visitors and lifestyle journalists attended the grand opening, and Osamu entertained everyone with a smile.

Atsumu, who was still avoiding public appearances, didn’t attend. Instead, he wandered around their apartment like a lost child.

Why did he feel like he just broke up with Kiyoomi for the second goddamn time?

He couldn’t even begin to make sense of all he was feeling. So he didn’t. He pushed down every thought and feeling relating to Kiyoomi, labeled them as “The Past” in his mind, and convinced himself that if he could pick himself up from that first break up, this should be easy in comparison.

But the part of his heart that screamed in protest every time he remembers him saying _“You won’t be seeing me again”_ told Atsumu that it wasn’t going to be that easy.

The door opened and he didn’t bother picking himself up from where he was slumped on the floor beside the kotatsu. “Samu? Is it done?”

“No, the opening isn’t done.” Kita was studying Atsumu’s prone floor.

He scrambled to a sitting position. “Hi! You didn’t tell me you were coming home.”

The three of them had been renting an apartment in Tokyo the past month or so. He didn’t know why he was so surprised to see Kita. Probably because the other man has been busy the past couple weeks, he’d barely seen him home. He didn’t even know he’d been at the opening.

Atsumu had probably been a shitty boyfriend lately. Contrite, he stood and walked over to Kita, hugging him carefully. “Hi,” he said again, placing a kiss on his head.

Kita relaxed. “Hi. I have food.”

They moved to the kitchen, and Atsumu sat down. Kita placed the paper bags on the counter. Then he just stood there, his back to Atsumu, for the longest time.

And then he turned, sat a chair across the table, and stared at Atsumu.

“Um, Kita, you okay…?”

Kita looked away. Then he said in a light voice, “Atsumu, I was just wondering. Did you and Sakusa-san ever celebrate your monthsaries?”

“Huh?” That was so out of the left field. But it was an easy enough question to answer. “Yeah, sure. I’m the one who liked doing it, though. I celebrated _our_ monthsary too, remember?” He’d taken Kita for a day out in the park to enjoy the cherry blossoms.

“Every month? With — with Sakusa-kun?”

The 15th of every month. He felt a sudden pain at remembering. He cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

Kita nodded slowly. There was a strange tension in the air.

“Kita, what’s wrong?”

“Our monthsary last month. You forgot.”

Atsumu’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

“I remembered though. It was the day Sakusa-kun came to the shop for his solo shoot.”

“Oh,” he said again, hushed. “Why...why didn’t you remind me?”

“Honestly?” Kita’s lips twisted up, but it looked wrong. It looked bitter. “I thought you were planning something, because that morning you were so excited, you were practically vibrating. Turned out I was wrong. It wasn’t me you were excited about at all.”

Horror was starting to daw on Atsumu. He opened his mouth but Kita raised a hand. He shut his jaw with a click.

“I thought eventually you’d remember. But you’ve been so distracted the whole month. And these past couple weeks...it felt like you’ve been grieving.” Kita’s gaze bore into Atsumu’s. “You have that look in your eyes again. What did he do to hurt you this time?”

For a few seconds Atsumu was frozen. Then he thought, _no._ He wasn’t doing this. He shook his head.

Kita sighed. It was a sad sound.

“Atsumu, do you love me?”

Atsumu jerked his head up to look at him. “You _know_ I do, Kita.”

“Let me rephrase that. Atsumu, are you in love with me?”

Atsumu dropped his gaze.

Voice wavering, Kita then asked, “Are you still in love with him?”

Silence.

“Atsumu, please.”

He whispered, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Kita reached out and touched Atsumu’s eyes, making them close automatically. His hand drew away. “Now you don’t have to see it if you do hurt me. Atsumu. Do you still love him?”

Atsumu pressed his lips together. Then finally he choked out, “I’m so sorry.”

Silence. Then a muffled sob. Atsumu didn’t dare say anything.

Then Kita whispered, “Do you want to end this?”

Atsumu squeezed his eyes tighter. This conversation was just getting harder and harder. 

“Do you, Atsumu?”

“Can you ever forgive me?”

His answer was another sob, which Kita didn’t bother to silence.

Ever the coward, Atsumu kept his eyes closed.

After an indeterminate amount of time, Kita said, in a more composed voice, “I already knew. The moment I saw you two together, I knew I was losing you. But that’s silly, isn’t it? I never even had you in the first place.”

Atsumu finally opened his eyes and looked at the man who tried his damndest to love him for the past two months.

“You went and got him because he didn’t like the rain. You didn’t even bother telling me or Samu — the moment he needed you, you were just gone. No question about it, you just walked out the shop and left. And I waited by the door to watch you return. You probably didn’t even know what you looked like together...the way you walked beside each other, so at ease, like no time had passed. And when he realized who I was...god, the way he looked at me,” Kita laughed. “If looks could kill, I’d have died on the spot.”

Atsumu tried to protest but Kita shook his head.

“No, I have to let this out, Atsumu, please.” He rubbed at his eyes. “I’m pretty sure that the two of you forgot about my existence that day. Osamu’s too. I had to watch you act like the _perfect boyfriend_ to the man who broke your heart, when for the past two months, you could hardly look at me and see _me_.

“And I got it then, finally. When I saw the way you looked at him, and smiled at him. Like you were finally looking at the right person. Atsumu...I was never the right person. And I shouldn’t have tried to be.

“I have been so stupid. And it actually isn’t all your fault. I saw you again after years, so broken and sad and alone, and I don’t know. I wanted to fix you, to save you. But I couldn’t do it, Atsumu. Because you wouldn’t let me. Because you didn’t want to let go of him, did you? You never had any intention to.”

Atsumu couldn’t even deny it. He remained silent, his heart aching.

“I’m not angry, Atsumu. But I _am_ hurt. I loved you. But you never even tried with me. And I get that I got in the way of your one true love but...wow. I have never met anyone as cold as you.”

“I’m sorry.” He couldn’t say anything else. “I never — I never should have strung you along, but I just...I needed to know. If I could be with someone else. I didn’t mean — I never wanted to _hurt you_.” He gave up, slumping against the back of his chair. “Sorry.”

He just kept doing _everything wrong._

He was never enough for anybody.

And he never will be again, because he was far too damaged to even try anything. This just proved it. Nobody could fix him, and they shouldn’t even try.

There was a sigh, and Kita’s hand rested on top of his.

“I’m relieved, I suppose. That this ended as early as now. It would have been unbearable if I had to find out years down the road that you were never going to love anybody but Sakusa Kiyoomi.”

Kita’s hand squeezed his. “I hope it works out for you, Atsumu. And I hope that even though you couldn’t love me, I managed to help you anyway, even just a little.”

Atsumu couldn’t help but start crying. “You did. You helped me a lot, Kita. Thank you. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Goodbye, Atsumu.”

And just like that, he was once again alone.

\--

“It’s just not right,” Atsumu said in frustration, looking at the photo he took from weeks ago. “Why can’t I do landscapes? I hate it.”

Osamu sighed. “I am so sick of hearing about landscapes. Why do you even try?”

The photo in question was from the outdoor shoot he did for Onigiri Miya. While they were all outdoors, he had snapped a few personal photos as practice. When he’d shown the photos to Osamu, his twin just said they were fine, and it pissed him off.

“I hate not being good at something,” he informed his twin. “Besides, it’s technically pretty, you know? The place is pretty. Ergo, the photo is pretty. But why isn’t it _good?_ What’s missing? Argh, it’s driving me crazy.”

Osamu was staring at him. “I can see that. Go check your other photos, maybe there’s something.”

He tapped aggressively at the right arrow key on his abused laptop. He wasn’t satisfied.

And then he came across a photo that had more life in it compared to the other photos, but he couldn’t place a finger on what it was.

“This! This is good. I mean, it could use some work, but it has that something.”

Curious, Osamu stood and made his way over, leaning down to check what was different about this one.

Technically, it looked about the same as the other shots. Still, there was something.

Osamu was silent.

“Well?” he demanded.

Sighing, Osamu sat down beside Atsumu on the kotatsu. “Hey, Tsumu.”

This sounded like a serious conversation. Wary, he placed his laptop back on the table. “Yeah?”

“You ever think…” he hesitated. Then changed direction completely. “I’ve been keeping something from you. For a while now.”

“What?” He didn’t like this.

“Rin and I broke up.”

Atsumu was speechless in shock. He stared at his twin uncomprehendingly.

“Almost three months ago now,” Osamu continued. “Before we even moved here to Tokyo. Haven’t you wondered why you haven’t been seeing him? Why we haven’t been together?”

“There’s no way,” he whispered. “You would have told me.”

“You were dealing with _so much_ already, Tsumu. I didn’t want to make you more miserable. And I was afraid it might set you off. Remind you of...you know.”

“Osamu...why?”

His twin shrugged, expression bleak. “I thought we were doing fine with the long distance. I mean, we didn’t get to talk everyday, there were hardly any meaningful conversations, and we were both just so busy...I thought that was normal, and I didn’t realize the toll it’s been taking, you know? And we just drifted apart I guess. It got weird when I told him I was moving to Tokyo. It was like we suddenly didn’t know how to deal with the possibility of actually spending time together. Isn’t that fucked up?”

Atsumu didn’t even know what to say.

“When we tried making plans to maybe move in together, it felt like two strangers asking to room with each other. I was more comfortable getting an apartment with you and Kita. And I’d sooner ask either of you for help with Onigiri Miya rather than him. Tsumu, when did my own boyfriend become a stranger in my life? I didn’t _notice_. And the breakup was so...quiet. An eight-year relationship just out like a light.”

“You seemed so...fine.”

“I mean, I’m fucking sad about it. Eight years is a long time, you know? I’ll admit, the first few weeks were hard. I wanted to take back everything and get back together with him, but it felt like giving up. Like I was just settling because I was used to him. There just wasn’t _passion_. The spark was gone, and that would have been fine if we could have kept fighting for each other, you know? Just keep choosing each other everyday. But it felt like we just let everything slip away, without any effort on either side. And that’s on both of us.”

“How — how are you feeling now?”

Osamu thought for a moment. “Better, honestly. Opening the Tokyo branch made me busy, made me happy, made me feel accomplished. I’m still doing what I love, and I got you, and Kita, so I’m good. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me, Tsumu. Still get bummed about it sometimes, though. I feel like I wasted eight years of my life.”

He studied his twin’s face. He’d been so self-absorbed lately. He couldn’t believe he missed something this big, let Osamu suffer in silence when he was a vital part of Atsumu’s recovery.

Kiyoomi’s words came into mind. _We don’t all cope with pain and loss the same way._

Atsumu laid a hand on Osamu’s shoulder. “You shouldn’t regret those eight years. Better to have loved and lost, you know? Besides…” Atsumu craned his head to catch Osamu’s eyes. “Sometimes the people we love leave us, but that just means something better is coming along. Remember?”

Osamu’s eyes started tearing up. He smiled tremulously.

“And eight years is nothing compared to the rest of your life,” Atsumu concluded, getting choked up himself. “You’re 26. You still have lots of Onigiri Miya branches to open up.”

Atsumu found himself crushed in a hug. “Thanks, Tsumu. I needed to hear that.”

“You should have come to me sooner, dumbass.”

“I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

“I’m glad you managed to do so now.”

Osamu pulled away and sighed, composing himself. “It’s because I couldn’t stop thinking. About me, and Rin, and you and...Kiyoomi.”

Atsumu frowned at him, confused.

“You know I always thought that me and Rin had it easier than you guys ever did. We were settled, we were content, we had a groove you know? Meanwhile you two were just so... _crazy_. Crazy together, crazy about each other. When you two started fighting, like seriously fighting, I wasn’t surprised that it was all so explosive. But the way you two clung on for as long as you could...it was more than Rin and I ever did.”

Atsumu turned the words over in his head. “But in the end they both left us, Samu.”

“No, here’s the thing, Tsumu. Rin and I have been letting each other go for a long time now. The breakup was more of a formality than anything. By the end of it, there wasn’t even anything to salvage you know? But you and Omi-kun...I have never seen two people more incapable of letting each other go. Atsumu, I think you’ve been stupid.”

“What? Why?”

“When you agreed to date Kita, did you decide to try, _really_ try to open yourself up to him? To give a part of yourself to him?”

Atsumu looked at his lap in guilt.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“A part of me will always be Kiyoomi’s,” he whispered. “I can’t help that, Samu.”

“No, but you _could_ help that, Tsumu. _You_ decided to give him a part of you all those years ago, but you just never wanted it back. And you guarded the part of him that was still with you with more ferocity than you ever put in anything else. Love is a choice. And you’re the one who keeps choosing to love him, every day these past four years. Whether you were together or not.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I’m trying to say that...I miscalculated when I asked him to do the campaign, sure. I didn’t think it would blow up like that. But when I made that call, I also just wanted to _know_. I had to see with my own eyes if he was still holding on to you somehow, the way you were doing with him. I watched you with Kita all that time, you know? I knew it was going to end in heartbreak for him. You just had this look in your face sometimes, and I knew you were thinking of Omi.”

He was scared to ask, but he needed to know. “And what did you see, when you saw us together again?”

Osamu laughed like he couldn’t help it. “Jeez. That very first moment when I went out of the shop and saw you two just staring at each other, I knew it was only a matter of time before you crashed into each other again. Like pulling a rubber band. Just snaps right back into place, no matter how you pull it. He was never going to be gone from you forever, Tsumu. _That’s_ what I saw.

“And hell, you two just jumped straight into it, too, acting like... like there was simply no other way for you two, you just _had_ to be together. Even if it pained you, even if you struggled. I was stressed for Kita the entire time, he had to watch that. I feel bad for him, man.”

“I feel really shitty about it, too. He didn’t deserve what I did to him. But I couldn’t help it, Samu. I just...couldn’t let Omi go. You’re right. And Kita was right.”

“It’s okay, you know? I didn’t get it before, but after this thing with Rin...I get it. Hell, I wish someone would love me the way Omi loves you. And he _does_ love you.”

“But he left me.”

“He left to heal, so you _both_ could heal, Tsumu. I’m sorry you got terribly hurt, but I do believe it needed to happen. He was right, your relationship just got so toxic, _god_ , it made me sick just watching it. And say what you want about Omi-kun, but he was the only one brave enough to face the truth — that something was wrong in your relationship.”

Atsumu’s head was spinning with everything he was hearing. This past year, Osamu had been firmly by his side, backing him up, silently supporting him while he got back on his feet. To be told of what he’d really been thinking...he must think Atsumu was ready to hear it.

He mulled it over. “I think I need to think about this some more.”

“You do that. But look.” Osamu leaned over and tapped on a random key on Atsumu’s laptop. “You keep whining about how your photos of this exact view were missing something. What makes this particular photo different? Why is this one good? They’re all the same goddamn picture Atsumu.”

Atsumu frowned at it.

Osamu tapped at the very edge of the picture. “This curly hair look familiar to you?”

Oh. He’d been stupid. Captured half out of the frame was Kiyoomi. It really was just the back of his head and the back of his coat, but he was recognizable...if you were looking for him.

“When you think about your future, when you think about your life five years from now, what do you see? Who do you see?” Osamu pressed.

_You think we’ll still be together five years from now?_

_Five, ten, fifteen...forever. I love you, Kiyoomi. I want to build a life with you._

The picture blurred as tears gathered in his eyes and dripped down his cheeks. “But what if we fuck it up again,” he whispered. “What if he leaves me again? What then?”

“Then you can live the rest of your life without regrets, because you know you fought as hard as you could, for as long as you could, for the person you love. Don’t be like me and Rin, Tsumu. Don’t stop fighting. You two still have a lot to fight for. I’ve seen it, recently. When I watched you smile and laugh for the first time in a year, just because he was there. When I watched him eat a goddamn onigiri just because you said please. Fuck this, I’m grossed out just remembering it. You two are really something.”

The tears dripped down faster.

Osamu sighed. “Think about it, okay? We can’t both be miserable the rest of our lives. And I just really want to see you happy again, Tsumu. You’re both in a better place now. You’ve both reset your boundaries. It might be worth giving another chance.”

His twin stood up. He squeezed Atsumu’s shoulder, and left him to his racing thoughts.

\--

Kiyoomi was sitting on a park bench, staring off into space. If Atsumu didn’t see the way Kiyoomi’s fingers were laced together tightly, he would think he was unaffected.

“Hey,” he said, making his presence known.

Kiyoomi looked up at him as he approached. “Hey yourself.”

Atsumu sat beside him. “Thanks for meeting me here.”

“Sounded like you had something to say, so...and I wanted to tell you something, too. But later. You go first.”

“Okay.” He took a deep breath, centering himself. “First, I want you to know that Kita and I broke it off. It was a relationship that was doomed to fail, because I’ve given away my heart long ago, and I shouldn’t have tried anything with him. I ended up just hurting people.” He sighed. Here came the hard part.

“And I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry, for everything back then. For not listening to you. For not apologizing for hurting you. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and...I’ve been selfish. I’ve been selfish back then, I’ve been selfish this past year, and I’ve been selfish recently. I didn’t realize...didn’t want to accept, that you needed to find the Omi that you lost when you loved me.”

“The Omi who still loves you,” Kiyoomi said, his voice thick.

Atsumu picked up Kiyoomi’s hand and pressed it to his own cheek. “I wish...you have no idea how much I wish that I could tell you right now that I choose you still. That I choose you again. But Omi…”

“Tsumu,” Kiyoomi's voice was shaking. He gazed at Atsumu in desperation. “What do I have to do? Tell me what you need me to do.”

“I need you to be the one to wait for me this time, Omi. I just need a little more time to recover. To find the Tsumu that I lost when I lost _you_. So that when I return to you…” He pressed a kiss on Kiyoomi’s hand. “I can love you again with my whole heart."

Kiyoomi had tears running down his cheeks, but he was smiling. He whispered, “I can do that. Take all the time you need.”

Atsumu couldn’t help but wipe the tears away. Seeing Kiyoomi cry will always be hard for him.

“Besides,” Kiyoomi began. He was smiling wider now. “I’ll be waiting in just the right spot.”

“Oh? Where’s that?”

“I didn’t renew my contract with the Adlers. I’m signing with the MSBY Black Jackals again. I’m going home, Tsumu. It’s time.”

Atsumu stared at him, lips parted. His heart was pounding.

Kiyoomi looked amused at his expression. “Wanna tell me what you think?”

“I think,” he whispered. “I think that’s perfect.”

Kiyoomi nodded. His eyes were wet, his nose was red, and he was smiling. He looked so beautiful. The most beautiful thing Atsumu had ever seen.

Then Kiyoomi leaned in and kissed Atsumu on the forehead. “We’ll be waiting for you to come home, Tsumu. Heal well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One last chapter to go!


	4. The Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just gross fluff to make up for everything.

**[December 2022 - New Year’s Eve]**

Change was in the air, and the world was at the edge of its seat, waiting.

Not because another year is ending and another will soon begin, no.

Rather, it was because of a series of shocking developments relating to volleyball.

Alright, technically it was only the sports world that was holding its breath. But that was Atsumu’s world, so it was all that counted.

First, Sakusa Kiyoomi signed back with the MSBY Black Jackals in May. He was welcomed back with open arms. His former friends in the Adlers posted congratulatory messages online, and said they couldn’t wait to beat him in the court.

Then in July, Hinata Shouyou, whose contract with Brazil finally expired, came home — not just to Japan, but to his first team. Yes, he was back with the Jackals, too.

Not to be outdone, and surely spurred by all the excitement, a homesick Bokuto Koutarou followed suit. He had posted a selfie with Hinata and Kiyoomi, all of them wearing their brand new jackets, as an announcement of his return. The photo had trended.

Now everyone was waiting for one more to complete the legendary MSBY 4, but nobody knew what to expect. Because they hadn’t heard a single peep from Miya Atsumu for exactly one year and four months. His last social media post was still his statement about taking a break.

There were doubts if he’d even return to the court, since the length of his hiatus was bordering on career-breaking. And nobody even hinted that he was planning to come back.

That was because only one person knew of his plans.

He made the call in November.

“Hey, Coach. Got room for one more?”

Foster boomed out a laugh. “You have no idea how much I’ve been hoping to receive this call, Atsumu-kun.”

Atsumu grinned out his window. “I’m ready to come back. I’ve been trying to get back in shape these past few months, but I’m gonna need your help the rest of the way.”

“Let me worry about that. When are you coming back?”

“I was thinking end of December. And I mean end of December. Would be nice to kick off the New Year this way, right? And there’d be no matches during that time, so I won’t distract the team too much from the ongoing season.”

Foster made a sound of agreement. “That sounds perfect. Say, what do you think of a New Year’s Eve party as your great comeback?”

“Was counting on it, Coach. But don’t tell anyone I’m coming, I want to see their faces.”

Foster laughed. “I can’t wait. I’ll announce the party, but not the special guest.”

“Thanks Coach.” He paused, then lowered his voice. “But before all that, I need to tell you first. When I come back, I intend on pursuing a relationship with Kiyoomi again. We talked before he signed with the team and we decided to give it another shot. Would that be a problem? I’d understand if it is…”

Foster was silent for a moment. Then he said, “I already knew, Atsumu-kun. When Omi-kun came here to sign the contract, he told me you were getting ready to come back and that when you do, you’ll be together again.”

“And what did you say?”

“I said I’ll take anything that comes with the two of you, just sign the damn contract.”

Atsumu startled out a laugh. He was relieved. “Thank god. I thought for sure you’d protest, considering the damage we did last time.”

“I figured it was traumatizing enough that you’d both be more careful to avoid it this time around.”

“Definitely,” he said sheepishly.

“I’m looking forward to having you back, son.”

“Me too.”

And the day was finally here. December 31, 2022.

He was getting ready in their new apartment in Hyogo. They both moved back to their hometown after Onigiri Miya’s Tokyo branch was settled. That hadn’t been the plan when Osamu started that branch, but with his break up with Suna, and Atsumu returning to Osaka, Osamu simply had no reason to stay in Tokyo. He made adjustments to his staff and that was that.

He smoothed down his crisp tan blazer over his plain white shirt and checked his reflection in the mirror one more time.

His freshly (and professionally) bleached hair was a platinum blonde again, with his signature dark undercut. He painstakingly ruffled it with some wax, and thought he finally recognized himself in the mirror again. He had gained the weight and muscle mass that he lost, the dark circles under his eyes were gone, his color was no longer pallid. He felt good, and he looked good.

It was past 10 p.m. Time to get going.

When he stepped into the living room, Osamu looked up from his papers. His twin sized him up from head to toe and then grinned at him proudly. “Looking good, Tsum-Tsum. You’re gonna knock them dead.”

Atsumu took a moment to study his twin. Osamu has been doing much better since returning to Hyogo. He didn’t seem to be dwelling on his breakup with Suna, for which Atsumu was relieved.

He’d also been spending a lot of time with Kita, who had returned to Hyogo after breaking up with Atsumu. If one were to ask Atsumu, he’d say they were acting like an old married couple. But he decided to just see where it was going, if it was going anywhere.

Feeling oddly emotional, Atsumu crept closer and hugged his brother. “I wouldn’t have gotten this far without you, Samu. Just wanted to say thank you.”

Osamu gripped him tighter, before thumping his back and clearing his throat. “Naturally, you couldn’t do without me. Now go get your man. It’s about damn time.”

Atsumu grinned and walked out the apartment.

He and Kiyoomi hadn’t talked since parting ways in May. He wasn’t a hundred percent sure that he’d be ending the night with a new (old) boyfriend, but there was only one way to find out.

He was ready to take the leap again.

Smiling, he boarded the train that was to take him back home.

\--

Kiyoomi stared out the window of Foster’s large apartment, keeping a little distance away from the rowdy celebration. Their coach had extended an invitation to the team for a New Year’s Eve party, so naturally they couldn’t refuse.

It wasn’t just the team’s current members that were here — Meian, Adriah, and Barnes were present with their wives and children. It was a family affair. There was toshikoshi soba, and mochi, and sake, and laughter and that was all well and good. But there was one person missing.

Of course Kiyoomi couldn’t expect him to be here tonight. He said he’d wait for as long as it takes, so that’s what he was going to do. Even if Atsumu were to return soon, he wouldn’t be able to play in the second half of the V. League season. It would be more realistic if he came in April next year.

Still, Kiyoomi thought of New Year’s Eve picnics and midnight kisses, and yearned.

At around 11:30 p.m., the doorbell rang insistently. And it didn’t stop. Then there was an urgent banging on the door that joined the cacophony.

Someone turned off the music, and Inunaki yelled, “What the hell? Someone check who that jerk is, jeez.”

Everyone craned their heads to watch Hansuke, their libero, run to the door. The doorbell was still ringing and the banging didn’t cease.

Hansuke opened the door and froze. The irritating noises cut off.

Everyone leaned in, curious, when Hansuke staggered back without making a sound.

Then a painfully familiar voice drawled, “It’s rude not to invite your newest player to the party, you know.”

And then Miya Atsumu came into view, smirking and handsome and _blonde_.

Kiyoomi dropped the glass of sake he was holding. Nobody even bothered to look at him, too busy gaping at the unexpected guest.

“Well?” Atsumu said, grinning. He shut the door behind him without looking. “Did nobody miss me? Coach, I hope you’re filming this.”

“I am.”

“Holy shit,” Inunaki said, finally. “Really? Like, _really?_ ”

Meian laughed incredulously. “My god. You really know how to make the most irritating entrance. Miya fucking Atsumu. Now of all times?”

“Well.” Atsumu’s eyes unerringly found Kiyoomi’s. His smile softened. “There’s someone I have to kiss at midnight.”

Kiyoomi’s legs were moving before his mind made the decision to _go to him._ He bid goodbye to his dignity and his reputation and everything else that didn’t matter and ran.

Atsumu caught him with an “oof” and he staggered back with the force of Kiyoomi’s momentum. But he didn’t let them fall and he hugged Kiyoomi tight around the waist.

“Hey, Omi-Omi,” Atsumu said in a low voice.

Kiyoomi sobbed and dropped his face into Atsumu’s shoulder, clinging to him.

Atsumu pressed his own face against Kiyoomi’s neck. It was wet. His hand reached up and started soothing Kiyoomi by stroking the back of his head.

And then a sobbing Hinata crashed into them, and Atsumu’s arm adjusted to hold him. Bokuto wailed “Tsumutsumu!” and joined the group hug too.

Kiyoomi felt it when Atsumu’s body started to shake, and his tears started forming a wet spot in Kiyoomi’s sweater. “I’m sorry, guys,” he choked out.

Atsumu drew away, and they all straightened, sniffling.

“You haven’t answered my calls for over a year,” Bokuto said solemnly. Tears sat in his eyes.

“Mine, either,” Hinata hiccuped. “Not since the dinner.”

Tears were running freely down Atsumu’s cheek. He looked pained. “I’m so sorry. I just didn’t know how to face you.”

Then Atsumu looked past them. He squeezed Kiyoomi’s waist before dropping his arm and stepping towards Inunaki, who had drawn closer, face tight.

The two looked at each other for a silent moment. Then Atsumu closed the distance between them and pulled Inunaki into a hug. “You tried your best to help me and I’m sorry I didn’t let you. I’m over a year late, but thank you, Inunaki.”

Kiyoomi saw the way Inunaki’s face broke and he started crying too. “I’m just so fucking relieved that you’re okay. You shitty Atsumu.”

Meian, Adriah, and Barnes took that as their cue to join the group hug.

“We’re very happy to see you again, Atsumu-kun,” Meian said when they all pulled away. “I’ve wondered how you were doing every day.”

“You just fucking disappeared,” Inunaki accused, sniffling. “You didn’t even tell me you were leaving.”

“Sorry,” Atsumu said, looking ashamed. He started wiping at his wet cheeks. “I don’t know what else to say.”

“But you’re good now, yes?’ Foster said as he approached, still holding up a phone with one hand.

“Coach,” Atsumu greeted. The two men hugged, Foster rubbing Atsumu on the back.

“Welcome back, Atsumu-kun.”

After all the greetings out of the way, Atsumu straightened his blazer and patted his hair, making sure a strand wasn’t out of place. “Damn it. That entrance wasn’t as cool as I planned it to be.”

Kiyoomi snorted. Then they all started laughing.

“It wasn’t cool, it was fucking annoying!” Inunaki snapped. 

“Can’t believe he’s even more infuriating than before,” Adriah said.

“I wanted you all to pay attention,” Atsumu grinned sheepishly. “And I thought it would be funny to see Inunaki’s pissed off face.”

Foster said, “Come on, let me introduce you to the new members of the team real quick.”

Atsumu slid his hand into Kiyoomi’s as he was toured around the room, being introduced to the people he hasn’t met since his hiatus. Kiyoomi followed automatically, still reeling. He wasn’t quite sure this wasn’t a dream. And it seemed everyone else had the same feeling as all eyes tracked Atsumu’s progress around the room.

When he was officially introduced to a stuttering Hansuke, Atsumu said, “Man, your face when you answered the door. I was worried my hair got messed up or something.”

“That’s only horrifying for you,” Kiyoomi pointed out. “Based on his reaction, I would have thought a troll was on the door. Oh wait.”

Atsumu dug an elbow to his side and glared at him. “I’ve been here 10 minutes, _10 minutes,_ Omi.”

Kiyoomi couldn’t help but snicker. What did he expect? This time, Hansuke’s wide-eyed stare shifted to Kiyoomi and he said, “Oh my god, Sakusa-san just laughed.”

He wondered how strange this was to the team. They had asked him about everything of course, and badgered, and poked, but he told them the truth: that he and Atsumu weren’t together, that they spoke once, months ago, and haven’t spoken since. He didn’t even tell them Atsumu had planned to return, because he didn’t know when that would be and he didn’t want to give them hope.

And now here they were.

Atsumu reached Yasuhiro, the current starting setter, and said, “Yo. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

There was a groan from somewhere in the room and Inunaki said, “I regret ever missing him.”

Yasuhiro just smiled and waved a hand. “I’m not even mad. It’s an honor to finally meet you, Miya-san.”

When introductions (and reintroductions) were over, Atsumu checked the time and said, “Okay, hold that thought. Omi and I need to talk, we’ll be back.” And he dragged Kiyoomi out into the back porch.

The cool night air roused Kiyoomi and it finally sunk in that this was real. Atsumu was here, he was back in the team, and he was holding his hand. When they reached the wooden railing, Kiyoomi turned to face him, and Atsumu did the same. Inside, the music turned back on.

“Hi,” he said softly.

“Hi yourself,” Atsumu smiled at him. “How’ve you been?”

“Good.” He meant it. “I’ve been happy to be back.”

“You look it.” Atsumu reached up a hand and caressed Kiyoomi’s cheek. “I’ve been good, too.”

Kiyoomi ran his eyes across Atsumu. He did look good. He looked great. Better than ever, even.

“Your hair is blonde again.”

“It was never meant to be gone for long,” Atsumu answered. 

Kiyoomi smiled at him. “It was fine either way.”

They stood in silence for a few moments.

“Omi,” Atsumu said finally. “You’ve had your space, and I’ve had my time. I want to give this another shot. I’m ready. Are you?”

Kiyoomi nodded vigorously. “I want this, Atsumu.”

Atsumu sighed in what sounded like relief. “We...probably have a lot of things to talk about.”

“Yeah. Tsumu...we have to find a better way of communicating. The fights — they stress me out, they always did. You’re my safe harbor. It’s hard for me when it’s always so... _taxing_. I have enough anxiety about — the world, in general. At the end of the day I just want to come home to you.”

Atsumu swallowed and nodded. “I understand. I’m sorry I ever made you feel so distressed in our own home.”

“It’s not just you. I started a lot of those fights. It just — I kept trying to bear with everything for as long as I could manage and it always ended up just exploding one day. I’m sorry. You were right, I should have told you all the things that were wrong the moment they started to bother me. But I don’t want you to just take over and _fix_ it. I want to fix it _with_ you. We’re partners, remember?”

Atsumu nodded again. “These past months, I’ve had a lot of time to finally think about all the things that went wrong. It was shitty of me to just make decisions without you. I was just so — I knew something was off, I felt that you were unhappy. And I panicked and tried too hard to fix everything, but I was addressing all the wrong things. I overcompensated and I’m sorry. I never wanted to make you feel like I just took control of everything.”

“You meant well. I understand that now. But it wasn’t easy to see, back then. I just felt like we were both trapped in that toxic relationship. And I felt bad that you gave up your chance to go to France. We weren’t even _happy_ together. I didn’t think I was worth staying for.”

“You’re worth everything, Omi. I’d pass up any chance to play wherever it is in the world, because I always saw you as my future. And I got too focused on that goal, that I forgot to live in the present. When it was all over, what I missed most were those tiny moments together that I took for granted. I would have done anything to kiss these one last time.” He reached up and touched his moles.

Kiyoomi sniffled and bowed his head, leaning in. Atsumu drew him closer by the neck, and pressed one, two, three kisses on his forehead.

“Missed you, Omi-Omi. Every day.”

Kiyoomi lost the battle with his tears. “I missed you too. Every day.”

Atsumu wrapped his arms around him and they kept each other warm in the cold.

“I went to therapy,” Kiyoomi said, resting his cheek on Atsumu’s head.

“What, really?”

“Yeah. Needed someone to make sense of all my mess. And you were working on coming back, so I figured I needed to do my part, too. I didn’t want to keep taking things out on you. I hated that version of me.”

“How’s your therapist, then?”

“She’s nice. Gave me tips on what to do when things get too much. And I told her all about you.”

“You did? What did she say?”

“That you sounded like a handful.”

“Hey,” Atsumu protested.

Kiyoomi chuckled. “You _are_ a handful. I wouldn’t want you any other way.” He hugged him tighter. “You can come with me if you want. She said she’d like to meet you one day.”

“I’d like that.”

Comfortable silence reigned once more. Kiyoomi closed his eyes and tried to memorize the feeling.

And then the noise inside started to gradually get louder, and their friends started shouting the countdown.

“Okay, we can talk more about the details later, I need to hurry this up,” Atsumu rushed out, pulling away and gripping Kiyoomi by the arms. His gaze bore into him. “Sakusa Kiyoomi, will you be mine again?”

Kiyoomi teared up when he realized what he was trying to do. “I was never not yours, but yes.”

Just as the people inside screamed “one,” Atsumu grabbed Kiyoomi’s face and kissed him.

And Kiyoomi’s world silenced completely. There was only him, and Atsumu, and their mouths moving against each other again, finally. It felt like coming home. Like being reborn.

When they pulled apart for a breath, they gazed at each other with bright eyes.

“Now our new anniversary is on New Year’s Day,” Atsumu said, grinning.

Kiyoomi laughed a little. This idiot and his antics. “Now we have to kiss on this day every year because it’s our anniversary. That means we’ll be together forever, right?”

Atsumu’s eyes were wet. He nodded.

“But,” Kiyoomi said. “We won’t need to seal the deal with a kiss every year, because we’ll both choose to stick together anyway. Right?”

Tears slipped down Atsumu’s face. He nodded again, more vigorously.

Kiyoomi wiped at his cheeks. “I love you, Atsumu.”

“I love you, Kiyoomi,” Atsumu choked out. “Most days that’s all I know.”

They came together again, and didn’t separate for a long while.

Until the rest of the team spilled out onto the porch screaming and cheering.

“Finally!” Bokuto yelled.

They were engulfed in hugs and shouting people, and Kiyoomi bore it with a smile on his face. These were really the people he considered his family. What was wrong with him?

“I cannot fucking believe this chaotic couple is together again,” Inunaki complained. “You put us through hell, and for what?”

“Admit it, you’re relieved,” Atsumu smirked at him. “Don’t worry, _captain_ , we know better now.”

Something seemed to occur to Inunaki. Eyes wide, he said, “Oh holy crap, I’m the captain of the MSBY 4. God help me.”

Meian laughed. “You’re gonna need all the luck you can get.”

Hinata yelled, “MSBY 4! We need a picture!”

Atsumu brightened. “Hell yeah! I’m bringing my social media accounts back to life, and I wanna post that first. Hurry, let’s take photos.”

“We are going to break the internet,” Bokuto declared. “We gotta do the claw thing!”

“Yes,” Atsumu said.

“No,” Kiyoomi said.

“Yes!” Hinata and Bokuto shouted.

They did the claw thing.

And Bokuto was right. They ended up breaking the internet.

**[January 2023 - New Year’s Day]**

Atsumu traced his fingers over the slopes of Kiyoomi’s body. Sun rays were starting to decorate his pale skin, and it fascinated Atsumu endlessly.

They were lying beside each other in bed, legs intertwined. Atsumu was on his side gazing at every inch of Kiyoomi’s bare skin, hungrily committing every mole and scar to memory.

The man himself was fighting sleep, eyelids shutting briefly, only to flicker open as he decided that watching Atsumu took priority over rest.

“Sleep, love,” Atsumu murmured. “I’ll still be here when you wake up. I’ll never go far away from you again.”

“Promise?” The word was a whisper.

“I promise.” Atsumu dragged himself up on his elbow and leaned over Kiyoomi. He pressed a kiss to his mouth, then his neck, then his collarbone. He couldn’t get enough.

Kiyoomi moaned. “How am I supposed to sleep like this?”

Atsumu muffled his laugh against his neck. “I’m sorry. You’re just so damn beautiful.” He pressed a final kiss to his shoulder and settled beside him. He dragged the blanket up to cover the temptation. “Sleep.”

“See you later, Tsumu,” Kiyoomi murmured, finally letting his eyes sleep shut.

A wave of fondness hit Atsumu like a tidal wave.

“See you later, Omi-Omi,” he whispered, and sneaked in another soft kiss, right on the two moles on his forehead.

He was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THERE WILL BE A SHORT SEQUEL because I am incapable of leaving things alone. It will be in Kita’s POV and it shows a bit of stuff from this fic, and then goes on to show what happens next. Lots of SakuAtsu still, Atsumu makes a comeback in volleyball, but the main pairing will be...OsaKita. Uhuh.
> 
> To those curious about the differences between film and fic: The whole New Year theme was just pulled out of my ass. There wasn’t a New Year scene in the movie at all lol. And obviously the original characters weren’t volleyball players, they were college sweethearts who went on to become an engineer and an architect and worked in the same firm together. They were together for 5 years, and after everything, when the dude went off soul-searching (he’s Atsumu in this fic) he was gone for TWO YEARS. The movie ended with them just meeting in some building again, the dude asking the girl out for coffee, and that was it.
> 
> If you wanna watch a supercut of the film: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i2fVOcWmaf8 (but I personally think a lot of the lines got lost in translation. The subs just fall flat sometimes. Translating is such a pain!) I watched this movie exactly ONCE, years and years ago in high school. I cried like a baby and never watched it again. Ever. But I still remember it because it’s one of those films that really hit you.
> 
> The line "I'll never go far away from you" was from the movie's soundtrack "I'll Never Go" by Erik Santos. It makes me feel things.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading, Kita didn’t deserve that but someone had to be Trisha (original character who is now forever a part of Filipino pop culture. No one ever wants to be a Trisha.) Bye for now!

**Author's Note:**

> This is for kagehinabokeh who slid into my Twitter DMs and said, "I'm Drunk I Love You AU"? This was followed by a discussion of Filipino movies, and I settled on "One More Chance" as my AU. I cried writing this. I hope it made you guys a little teary, too. (To those who want to scream about SakuAtsu with me on Twitter, I'm @lettersinpetals there, too.)


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